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May 2021 DEPARTMENTS 11 The Nature of Things By Ashley Wahl
12 Simple Life By Jim Dodson
14 Short Stories 16 Life’s Funny By Maria Johnson
29 Scuppernong Bookshelf 32 Home by Design By Cynthia Adams
34 Serial Eater
By Jason Oliver Nixon
37 Birdwatch
By Susan Campbell
18 Made by Hand
38 Wandering Billy
22 The Creators of N.C.
79 Events Calendar 80 O.Henry Ending
By Virginia Holman By Wiley Cash
26 The Omnivorous Reader By Stephen E. Smith
By Billy Eye
By David Claude Bailey
FEATURES 41 I Swear
Poetry by Debra Kaufman
42 Birds of a Feather
By Jim Dodson In the field with the Piedmont Bird Club
48 Guilford’s Quietest Places
By David Claude Bailey One intrepid trekker explores a patchwork of local preserves with with a motley crew of companions
58 Juneberry Ridge
By Ross Howell Jr. On down the road, seeds for a bright and beautiful future have been sown
65 Almanac
By Ashley Wahl
cover photograph of red-shouldered hawk by Lee Capps photograph this page by Amy Freeman
6 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Fine Eyewear by Appointment 327 South Elm | Greensboro 336.274.1278 | TheViewOnElm.com Becky Causey, Licensed Optician
M A G A Z I N E
Volume 11, No. 5 “I have a fancy that every city has a voice.” 336.617.0090 1848 Banking Street, Greensboro, NC 27408 www.ohenrymag.com PUBLISHER
David Woronoff Andie Rose, Creative Director andie@thepilot.com Ashley Wahl, Editor awahl@ohenrymag.com Lauren M. Coffey, Art Director Alyssa Rocherolle, Graphic Designer DIGITAL CONTENT
Cassie Bustamante, cassie@ohenrymag.com
Building wealth takes hard work and passion. So should managing it. As successful as you are, we know there’s still more you want to do. We’ve been helping our clients for more than 125 years, caring for more than $1.4 trillion of their hard-earned assets, as of March 19, 2021. Find out why so many people trust our financial advisors to help them manage their wealth with the care it deserves. Alex Sigmon Branch Manager 806 Green Valley Rd., Ste. 100 Greensboro, NC 27408 Office: 336-545-7100
Greg Costello Regional Brokerage Manager 100 N. Main St. Winston-Salem, NC 27150 Phone: 336-842-7309
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CONTRIBUTING EDITORS
Jim Dodson, Founding Editor Cynthia Adams, David Claude Bailey, Harry Blair, Amy Freeman, Maria Johnson CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS
Mallory Cash, Lynn Donovan, John Gessner, Bert VanderVeen, Mark Wagoner CONTRIBUTORS
Susan Campbell, Wiley Cash, Jason Cooke, Billy Eye, Ross Howell Jr., Billy Ingram, Brian Lampkin, Virginia Holman, Meridith Martens, D.G. Martin, Jason Oliver Nixon, Ogi Overman, Corrinne Rosquillo, Stephen E. Smith ADVERTISING SALES
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Jack Andrews, Frank Daniels Jr., Frank Daniels III, Lee Dirks, David Woronoff © Copyright 2021. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited. O.Henry Magazine is published by The Pilot LLC
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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The Nature of Things
The Call
A walk in the rain (a rewilding)
By Ashley Wahl
It isn’t a postcard-pretty day. The sky is
gray. The grass is soaked from a night of heavy rains. And yet I am being lured outdoors by a silent, mysterious force.
I zip on my boots, swipe my raincoat and let the gentle tug of this squishy spring morning guide me wherever I am going. The Arboretum, it turns out. Not the wildest of excursions. But here I am, squelching through a soggy field alive with wriggling earthworms and vibrant bursts of buttercup. I turn off my phone and slip on my hood as the rain picks up. Something about the dullness of the sky and the darkness of wet mulch and bark makes all that blossoms utterly pop in contrast. Saucer magnolia petals scattered across puddled sidewalks resemble swirls of koi breaching the water’s surface. Songbirds twitter. The air is warm. There isn’t another soul in sight. As a woodpecker sails past a willow oak whose still-bare branches look like black ink strokes against the hazy sky, I tap into my own wildness, remove my hood, remind myself to be here, now — fully open to the magic of this rainy spring morning. Unfortunately, walking in the rain isn’t something I tend to do on purpose. I don’t remember when — middle or high school? — but I learned to avoid rain as if my life depended on it. As if the sky were spewing hot oil. As if wet hair was cause for tribal banishment. And don’t get me started about the wind. (Have you seen what open windows do to curls?) At some point, where we’re going next becomes more important than where we are right now. There are social constructs to consider. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
You can’t just show up mud-caked and dripping like some kind of wild animal. Or can you? When I was 22 years old, my best friend and I hiked 40 miles through the Smokies on the Appalachian Trail — from Fontana Dam to Newfound Gap. We spent four days and nights in the deep woods. Our skin gleamed from the endless layers of sweat, sunscreen and bug spray. It wasn’t an easy hike, but the freedom to be just as we were — blissfully soiled and at home in the elements — was restorative. There was nowhere and no one else to be. Nature guides us closer to the truth of who we are. But it’s up to us to hear the call. Today, I’m one hundred yards from Wendover Avenue. But the rain is kissing my face. A cherry blossom drifts along the glimmering path like a paper boat. Tomorrow, more petals will have spilled upon the earthen floor. And weeks from now, the naked trees will flaunt new leaves. The exquisite composition of this moment will never repeat itself. I whisper a simple prayer of thanks. The rain softens to a drizzle. And then it happens: I cross paths with another human. A man, perhaps twice my age, likewise enjoying this misty spring morning. An effortless, genuine smile animates his face — the kind that starts from the inside — and when our eyes meet, a wordless exchange becomes a sacred bond. An instant knowing. A recognition of truth. “I see you,” our eyes seem to say. And we are no longer strangers. We are kindred. If only for this rainy spring moment. OH Contact editor Ashley Wahl at awahl@ohenrymag.com. O.Henry 11
Simple Life
Simple Gifts
The secret to a good life? Less is more
By Jim Dodson
A friend recently wondered why I named
this column “Simple Life.”
I joked that it was better than the original name I came up with — “Frankly, My Name Escapes Me.” In truth, the title is as aspirational as it is functional, a useful reminder that the longer I live, the more I grow to appreciate the value of simplifying my life. In her recent column, “Simplicity: The Neglected Value,” author and communications coach Bruna Martinuzzi points out that we timeenslaved, stressed-out, overworking humans simply don’t know what’s good for us when it comes to where we place our focus in life. “We read and hear enough about its benefits in just about every facet of our lives,” she writes, “yet we walk past it, every day, in pursuit of the more complex, complicated, tangled and sometimes puzzling. There is no glitter in simple, not enough buttons to play with. We fear that simple equates with easy, light, too basic — unsophisticated.” Leonardo da Vinci, in fact, declared simplicity the ultimate form of sophistication. As did the likes of Winston Churchill, Albert Einstein, Walt Whitman, Lao Tzu, Yogi Berra, Marcus Aurelius, Leo Tolstoy and Maya Angelou. Rumi called it the dust that hides the gold. Whether planning a wedding or a war, simplicity is key to a successful outcome, knowing what’s not essential and eliminating it before things get out of hand. A year ago, the combination of the pandemic and wedding plans that had grown far more complicated than expected prompted my daughter, Maggie, and her fiancé, Nate, to postpone and rethink how
12 O.Henry
they wished to tie the knot. They’ve since envisioned an intimate gathering of close friends and family to celebrate their union when the moment is right, somewhere in nature, stress-free and away from the madding crowd. One unexpected benefit of this strange year of distance and isolation, social scientists and trend-watchers report, is a broad refiguring of how we Americans live, work and appropriate our time. While churches and bars — the yin and yang of modern cultural society — still struggle to stay open, life-enriching activities like meditation, Zoom yoga, home gardening, golf and bird-watching have mushroomed in popularity. According to more than one expert on the American workplace, mobile workspaces and home offices will be the engine that produces the next Industrial Revolution, spawning a vast new generation of home-grown entrepreneurs and inventive visionaries. History holds some encouraging parallels. During the Great Depression and Second World War, an era of severe economic dislocation and public self-sacrifice, a generation of self-made engineers, tinkerers and inventors — many working in the isolation of their own garages and backyard sheds — managed to create everything from frozen foods to the first computers, color TV to dialysis machines, jet engines to Tupperware. That boom became the foundation for the consumer revolution and space age of the 1950s and ’60s. Your smart phone is the godchild of that time. A couple years ago, while traveling the Great Wagon Road for my current book project about America’s original immigrant highway, I paid an afternoon call on a lovely Amish family, the Lapps, who live in the heart of Pennsylvania’s lush Lancaster County. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Simple Life The “plain” ways of America’s Old Order Amish — such as their unadorned clothing, use of oil lamps instead of electricity and reliance on horses for transportation and farming — are an echo of our vanished agrarian past and a living reminder of the virtues of simplicity. Amish and Mennonite farmers were the first European settlers to answer William Penn’s call to Lancaster County in the late 17th century, using their wise farming practices and love of the land and their animals to transform the county’s rich limestone soil into the most productive farmland in the nation. The so-called “Garden Spot of the Nation” is now regarded as the birthplace of American agriculture. The Lapp family’s ancestors had been on their land since before the American Revolution, living as comfortably in accord with nature and the Divine as anyone I’ve ever met. After Mervyn showed me around his immaculate barns, we sat with his wife, Catharine, in the evening light, sipping delicious meadow tea — a drink made from boiling fresh mint gathered from surrounding fields — beneath a grove of old trees. They talked about their three grown sons, all of whom worked in the family’s masonry business, and how devotion to God, family and the pleasure of doing good work with their hands were the pillars of a rewarding life. It was one of the most pleasing interviews I’ve ever conducted. For the record, there were even a few myth-busting surprises, including the fact that the Lapp men were all crazy about playing golf, and that Mervyn was a lifelong L.A. Dodgers fan who often watched games on his neighbor’s television. “If you’re smart,” he told me during our walk through his beautiful
stone barn, “you take stock of what’s really important in your life . . . and other things you can simply live without.” He paused and gave me a wry look. “Simple things are always best. That’s a key to happiness. But I do need my Dodgers.” As I drove home to North Carolina on a winding backcountry road, I was reminded of my own aspirations of simplicity, beginning with my chosen route home. Getting anywhere fast is one thing I can do without. In his 1939 classic, The Importance of Living, Lin Yutang points out that beyond the noble art of getting things done, there may be an even nobler art of leaving things undone. “The wisdom of life,” he writes, “consists in the elimination of nonessentials.” During this year of distance from friends and family, in place of going out to movies or dinner, an older couple I know took up reading to each other every morning from their favorite books, a practice they plan to continue indefinitely. “It’s been a wonderful discovery,” Harry reports. “A simple gift that’s brought us closer than ever. It’s now part of our lives.” Over this same interlude, I began work on a large garden I have dreamed of making for many years, one that will probably take me many more years to complete. As any gardener knows, of course, a garden is never finished, so my education as a man of the soil — and my wonder at its constant gifts — will never cease, until I do. Simply put, what a lovely thought. OH Jim Dodson can be reached at jim@thepilot.com
The word “perfection” best describes this fabulous French Norman inspired home, set on prestigeous Clubview Court in the Starmount Country Club. Graciously sized rooms with stunning millwork include a breathtaking two-story elegant library, sto is devoted to a and the entire second story lavish primary suite complete with a spa with a sauna, steam shower and grand closets. The truly epicurean kitchen enjoys a fireplace, seating area, and pillow edge stone floor. The third floor is home to a theate theater, billiard/game room, a kitchenette, and a fourth bedroom along with a seventh full bath. The magnificent private back garden is home to a stone terrace, fountain, saltwater swimming pool, and an inviting gazebo. Life simply does not get any better than this!
Barry Hardeman 336-420-2837
barryshardeman@gmail.com The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 13
Short Stories
Load of Bull
It’s true: Those born under the earth sign Taurus are fixed in their ways. But if you think that makes them boring, consider that the Bull is ruled by Venus (goddess of love, beauty and money). In other words, they’re hypnotic. Magic Mike’s Channing Tatum could only be a Taurus. Ditto David Beckham, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and pop icon Janet Jackson. And heaven knows HM Queen Elizabeth II is no dullard. If you know and love a Taurus, consider yourself lucky. You could be stuck with them forevermore.
Jazz It Up
We see trim of green. Stone pillars, too. And on Saturday, May 15, from 11 a.m. – 4 p.m., step inside the Historic Magnolia House at 442 Gorrell Street for an exclusive glimpse of its past and future. In the mid-20th century, the Magnolia House was a favorite stop for Black performers on the legendary R&B Chitlin’ Circuit, including the likes of James Brown, Ray Charles, Ike and Tina Turner, Joe Tex, Jackie Robinson and Louis Armstrong. Now, funds are being raised for this historic inn to once again host overnight guests. Repairs are in the works. And just wait until you see how VIVID Interiors is reimagining the home’s four original bedrooms. Let’s just say the future Magnolia House Boutique Hotel is looking bright. Jazz Up the Magnolia tickets are $25. Info: www. thehistoricmagnoliahouse. org (Click on “Magnolia Events.”)
14 O.Henry
7 Minutes in Heaven
Preservation Greensboro will host its 11th Annual Tour of Historic Homes & Gardens from Saturday, May 15, through Monday, May 31. And it’s all virtual, baby. This year’s tour features seven-minute videos detailing six homes in one of Greensboro’s oldest neighborhoods — College Hill. Explore the interiors of centuries-old “Grand Dames” and quirky brick loft spaces while soaking up the history and architectural specifics that make College Hill such a treasure trove. Free tour. Donations benefit Preservation Greensboro. Info: (336) 272-5003 or preservationgreensboro.org. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
The Giving Tree
We’re Moving!
Martha Graham called dance the “hidden language of the soul.” Perhaps you know this to be true. On Saturday, May 22, from 5–7:30 p.m., Dance Project is putting on Move Together Mini Marathon, a fundraiser to support dance in Greensboro and across the state. This evening of interactive dance classes and performances also includes “moving stories” about the transformative powers of the soul’s “hidden language.” Donations support emerging artists, help bring dance into low-income schools and fund scholarships for students who otherwise could not afford dance. Join virtually through Facebook Live, YouTube or the Dance Project website. Info: danceproject.org/ movetogether.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
His phone rang the day the giant fell. People knew that Mike Haggas, a custom furniture maker, was always on the lookout for good wood. Surely, he’d be interested in the massive red oak that had crashed on the grounds of Reynolda House Museum of American Art in Winston-Salem. Haggas, who does business as Roots Originals, drove out to see the tree. He was awestruck. Visible from the driveway, the behemoth lay on her side. She — Haggas refers to the tree with female pronouns — was about 70 feet tall. Her rounded canopy, under which her progeny had once sheltered, was half as wide. Haggas noted that she had toppled into a clearing, away from her offspring, as if to say, “OK, you kids get growing.” He felt an emotional tug. Later, a cross section of the grand dame’s 40-inch trunk revealed that she’d extended a pale green root from a cracked acorn at the dawn of the 20th century. She bore no sign of disease, pest or lightning strike. She had gracefully died of old age. Her torso — an arrow-straight 32 feet from base to branches — was woodworker’s gold. Haggas, whose day job is in the administration at Wake Forest University, was intoxicated and intimidated at once. The cost of moving and milling that much wood would be exorbitant. He went home sad. His phone rang again. It was Stephan Dragisic, director of advancement at Reynolda House, calling. He and Jon Roethling, head of the adjacent Reynolda Gardens, wondered if Haggas might use the wood to make benches as a fundraiser for the gardens. Intended for indoor use, the benches would be replicas of garden seating drawn by landscape architect Thomas Sears, who shaped Reynolda’s grounds for tobacco magnate R.J. Reynolds and his wife, Katharine. Inspired by the back story, Haggas visited the tree with a millwright who concluded that, yes, he could plane the lumber on site. A few weeks after the titan fell — on May 1, 2020 — 3,000 board feet of wood was stacked in Haggas’ basement, where it seasons. Already he has made two benches — one for display in the museum, one for a buyer. The seats, crafted with mortise-and-tenon joinery, come in three sizes, costing from $2,000 to $4,000. Proceeds will go to Reynolda Gardens, which is free and open to the public. Attendance has exploded during COVID, but the outfit’s operating budget has wilted because of the popular plant shop’s closure. So even in death, mama tree sustains. “She deserves a next life,” Haggas says. Learn more about the benches at reynoldagardens.org. – Maria Johnson
Life's Funny
Not-So Instant Messages
Deep in a quiet wood, a notebook offers glimpses of a kindly human spirit
By Maria Johnson
The sight of a black plastic mailbox usually doesn’t make me smile.
But this one — lashed with a blue bungee cord to a splintered stump in the middle of the forest — brought a grin. The red flag was up. I had mail! And so did everyone else on this wooded trail, a hilly vein hugging one of Greensboro’s drinking-water reservoirs. I opened the hatch to find a composition book titled Mailbox in the Woods. “Share a thought, blessing, poem, or just say Hi!,” the creator had penned on the cover in blue ballpoint. She (my guess) signed it with a smiling cat face and noted that the book was Volume 2. The entries, which started in November, filled more than half the book, suggesting that she had started her project during the pandemic. It made sense. The past year had twisted the norms of, well, everything, and like scads of others, my husband and I had doubled down on our woods walks, partly for exercise, partly for solace.
16 O.Henry
The woods reminded us that destruction and creation live side by side, in balance, though it might not seem like that at any given moment. So during a time of national darkness, with nearly 600,000 Americans perishing from COVID-19, Greensboro’s sublime system of watershed trails was a lifesaver. Literally. Someone else had felt it, too, and she’d cast a net to catch the sentiment and let everyone know that, even though they might be walking solo, they weren’t alone in their thirst for beauty and hope and a smile. It reminded me of similar expressions I’ve seen in other remote locations: the mailbox that harks to walkers at the north end of Wrightsville Beach; the spontaneous shell art stuck on driftwood at the Botany Bay preserve on Edisto Island, S.C.; cairns that rise from the forest floors of state parks; Christmas ornaments that hang on trees behind Safety Town in Greensboro. For some, these creations say that human beings can’t leave nature well enough alone. But to me, these traces are like candles in a chapel, a gentle sign of community. The Mailbox in the Woods — and the messages inside — whispered that there was a tribe of heartbound souls treading the root-laced paths. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Life's Funny Nine days into November, a hiker named Jeanne opened the book and wrote an Emily Dickinson poem that she learned in sixth grade, in 1970: “The morns are meeker than they were The nuts are getting brown The berries’ cheeks are plumper The rose is out of town . . .” A few pages later, the scouts of Troop 118 scrawled their names. Eddy from Germany complimented the nature that surrounds Greensboro. Amy from Connecticut praised the book itself: “Coolest idea.” An anonymous young writer struggled with life in plain view: “I had my first sip of Jim Beam today; I’m reaching into my slightly inebriated mind to give you a sober thought: surround yourself w/ people that will be good for the long run :)” On November 22, C and B drew hearts and shared big news: “We just got engaged, about 30 yards away from you, mailbox!” Visitors from New Hampshire and Vermont left their marks. A child shared a brush with adventure: “We almost fell in the water.” In places, the messages sparked a playful dialogue. “I like your shirt,” one writer declared. “Thanks dude,” another responded. “How about my sweater?” added yet another. On another page, love blossomed: “I just met a really great girl. I think this could turn into a relationship.” “Congrats brother,” someone wrote below that. “I’m going to be a grandma!” someone gushed a few pages later. “Yay! Congratulations,” someone else responded. As I leafed through the book, what struck me was the lack of venom. Even though this was deep in the woods, there were no trolls. None of the messages was hateful — unless you counted the swipe at 2020: “Here’s to hoping 2021 doesn’t suck as much.” Sure, people revealed pain — “Fighting that post-Christmas depression,” and “I’m still in love with my ex”— but there was no piling on. There was only encouragement. “Keep swimming.” “You’re gonna get through this.” “No better time than this, and life is good, the only one,” one correspondent reflected in Greek with a sidebar of English translation. Was the upbeat tone a reflection of the people who are drawn to walking trails? Was it because no one was looking over their shoulders, counting the seconds until a response landed? Was it because of the reflective setting? Whatever the cause, I was grateful for this slow-walking social media. Another writer said it better than I could. “Hello MailBox in the Woods! It’s been a tough year, but moments of whimsy like these make it bearable. Thank you & blessings to all.” OH Maria Johnson is a contributing editor of O.Henry magazine. She can be reached at ohenrymaria@gmail.com. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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O.Henry 17
Made by Hand
A Deeper Look
By Virginia Holman
Why do we so often see our-
selves as separate from the natural world, or see the natural world as something separate from ourselves? The very things we must shield ourselves from are the same elements and organisms we need to survive — air, water, soil, fire, plants, animals, microbes, even germs.
Our homes are framed with timbers; floored with heart pine, oak, bamboo; tiled with glass, stone, kiln-fired clay. We decorate them with plants, sleep on sheets woven from cotton, feed the fire in our furnaces with wood, gas, oil, and we bathe, drink and cook with water that flows effortlessly from the tap.
18 O.Henry
Though it’s hard to understand how much we shape our world and it us, one thing is clear: Our dependence on the natural world inspires us. We look at clouds and stars and see faces, animals, mermaids, the sails of a ship. If you’re artist Helen Doemland, walking the wrack line along the Cape Fear River at low tide, you may see an old tree limb tossed high in the needlerush. You’ll wade through brittle reeds and muck to get a closer look. It’s birdpocked and worm-holed, scalloped with fungus, sun-bleached and battered. You run your hands over it, view it this way and that and think — I will make something of this. Then you’ll haul it out, heave it into your fat-tired, metal buggy and trudge back to your studio. Although based in Wilmington, Doemland’s watercolors and wood works have gained traction all over North Carolina, including Greensboro, where you can see her work at Gallery at Grandover. Her sculptures are one of a kind, and many hold a functional secret. An elegant, abstract spalted carving that graces The Art & Soul of Greensboro
PHOTOGRAPH BY LYNN DONOVAN
Artist Helen Doemland sees possibility — and beauty — in nature’s castoffs
Made by Hand
an end table is easily removed from its pedestal and becomes a dramatic centerpiece for your dining table. A gnarled and veined sculpture with several deep pockets functions as a flower vase or a wine chiller. Smaller bits of wood she may sand, sculpt and drill. Then, with a bit of primitive twine and expert knots, she’ll transform them into small hanging baskets for bromeliads and other air plants. How does Helen know which castaway limbs to collect? That’s something even she can’t quite explain. Instead, she takes me out one low tide dawn to one of her gathering spots. We drive there, take a long walk through the woods, and past shocking piles of trash here and there, where, sadly, people have dumped bottles and mattresses, remnants of carpet, a car tire, and later a wide swath of something that looks like shattered coke from the interior of a smokestack. We come upon one marsh area, and she points through a thicket of phragmites in the distance to an object in the marsh that looks like a giant rusted boiler or oil tank and the old chassis of a truck or tractor. How on Earth did these things wind up here? How will they ever be removed? Helen pulls her buggy behind us as she scans the shoreline. The sun has yet to rise, but the sky, the water, the narrow strip of shoreline exposed at low tide are tinted in purples and pinks. We wander to wherever there is wood. In the end, I can’t predict what she will collect and transform and what she will leave behind. She says it’s mostly experience and instinct, but The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 19
LET YOUR SMILE
Bloom! Being said about
“
McColl, 85, still plays a pivotal role in making North Carolina a better place. Beyond the Bank makes that crystal clear.” – Business North Carolina
“
Building a great bank has been upgraded to building a better community. (McColl) still has the energy and courage to believe he has a better place. What a legacy!”
– Harvey Gantt, Charlotte civic leader and former mayor
“
Nothing motivates Hugh McColl more than leading collaborations of strong voices to spark innovative solutions for the challenges of our time.” – Michael Marsicano, president and
20 O.Henry
NOW IN S E STOR
Hugh McColl’s Chapter Two The twenty years Hugh McColl’s spent since stepping down as Bank of America CEO belies the notion that irrelevancy is a part of retirement. This is the story of how McColl, at 85, remains essential in a city that bears his imprint, from building Uptown to investing social capital in all corners of the community. A new book by Howard E. Covington Jr. available online at:
howardcovingtonbooks.com
On sale at Park Road Books, Charlotte; Scuppernong Books, Greensboro; Hub City Bookshop, Spartanburg; Litchfield Books, Pawleys Island, S.C.; Books & Beans, Rocky Mount; , Southern Pines; and Battery Park Book Exchange, Asheville.
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Made by Hand like many artists, she sees potential where others do not. We come across a plain-looking stump cut long ago, uprooted, and washed ashore. Helen’s pace quickens. “Ah, this! I call this gold wood.” When I ask her what kind of wood it is, she says she isn’t sure. “It may be ash. It may be maple, but the last time I made something from it, it was amazing. I’ll show you.” We return to her shop. She brings out a bowl. The polished wood is the color of honey, and the interior is veined with strange marbling. “It looks like a map,” I tell her. “Look here,” she points. There, it appears, is a shape like the head of a wolf. “And here,” she says, “doesn’t that look like a turtle?” The more you look, the more is revealed. Helen’s artwork shows us what is possible when one takes the time to examine the castoff, the old and broken, and asks, what is possible here? OH Check out Helen Doemland’s work at the Gallery at Grandover and online at helendoemland.com Author and creative writing instructor Virginia Holman lives and writes in Carolina Beach.
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O.Henry 21
The Creators of N.C.
Found Magic
For Shannon Whitworth, the muse lives and breathes in the mountains of Brevard By Wiley Cash Photographs By Mallory Cash
“My art is how I see the world,” says artist and singer/songwriter Shannon Whitworth. “And my music is how I hear it.” Just outside of Brevard, she is walking across the expanse of grass between her barn studio and the renovated farmhouse she shares with her husband, Woody Platt of the Grammy Award-winning Steep Canyon Rangers, and their young son. The late afternoon is rainy and cool. In the distance, mist hangs over the mountains like a gray, gossamer blanket. In other places across the South, spring has begun to reveal itself, but here in the mountains, winter is still hanging on.
Whitworth didn’t always live in the mountains that have become so synonymous with her music and art. She was born into a bustling home with two older brothers in Fairfax, Virginia. By the time she reached high school, her restless nature prompted her to head south
22 O.Henry
to Hilton Head, S.C., where she spent summers with her Grandma Nancy, an Old South dame who owned a ladies’ clothing boutique and lived in a lamplit home where every room had a clock radio playing martini music. The soundtrack to Whitworth’s summers in Hilton Head were comprised of Billie Holiday, Frank Sinatra and the clink of ice in Grandma Nancy’s cocktail glasses. To the girl who’d been raised in an active household in a busy city, the freedom of Lowcountry life was both mysterious and emboldening. “I went down there playing with Barbie dolls,” Whitworth says, “and I came back home wearing a training bra.” Like many people who grew up in the 1990s and who would later become artists, Whitworth was an angsty teen who filled her journals with reams of poetry. Her parents had always been music fans, and she grew up listening to James Taylor, Paul Simon, Crosby, Stills & Nash. When her older brother began dating a woman who played the guitar, Whitworth realized she could set the words she’d written to melodies. The woman — who would eventually become her sister-in-law — showed her how to play chords, and by the time Whitworth began college in Boone, she was already skipping class to play music. “I was consumed by it,” she says. And then someone gave her Lucinda Williams’ first album. That’s when she had the vaguest of notions that, just maybe, she could become a musician too. “I didn’t know a lot of women who were doing this,” she says, and The Art & Soul of Greensboro
The Creators of N.C.
she didn’t know if she could do it either. After a series of moves and adventures took her all over the country, a camping trip to Brevard in 1999 finally convinced her to settle down and give music a try. “I was moonstruck by Brevard,” she says. She is sitting by the window in her living room, the sun having fallen below the mountains just above the confluence of the headwaters of the French Broad River. Night is creeping across the fields. “It felt like there was a crystal under the Earth that was pulling me here. I always thought I would end up back on the beach somewhere, but this place spoke to me,” Whitworth says. “I knew I would write a lot of songs and paint a lot of paintings here. And if I could do those things, then I knew this was where I needed to be.” She spent a few months in the offseason living in the old cook’s cabin at Camp Carolina, stuffing envelopes and mailing promotional material for the camp and working on her music. “I must’ve written a hundred songs,” she says, but she was too self-conscious to perform them in front of anyone aside from her brothers and a small circle of musician friends. “And then a friend of mine told me about a dive bar in West Asheville that hosted karaoke,” she says. “The people who came to karaoke were old country people. Nobody knew who I was or even cared. It felt safe.” The first song she ever performed in front an audience? Dolly Parton’s “Jolene.” “Dolly Parton was my spirit animal of sorts,” says Whitworth, whose own singing voice is lower and warmer but just as resonant as The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Parton’s. “I figured that if I could transform myself into someone like that, then I could do anything. It was like putting on body armor.” Another major influence while Whitworth was finding herself onstage was Dwight Yoakam, especially his album dwightyoakamacoustic.net, which features him playing his greatest hits with only an acoustic guitar. Whitworth would play his album and record it on a borrowed four-track while recording herself singing harmony and playing accompanying instruments, like mandolin and banjo. She would then layer in her recorded parts with Yoakam’s music. “It was as close as you could get to being in a band with Dwight Yoakam while also being a total weirdo at the same time,” she says. The first time Whitworth performed with her guitar in front of a live audience was during a jam night at Jack of the Wood in Asheville. That’s also where she met the other founding members of a bluegrass band that would soon become The Biscuit Burners. Over the next few years, the band would go on to release two acclaimed albums while crossing the country on what seemed like a never-ending tour. But despite all the band’s success, it was their first show that perhaps had the greatest effect on Whitworth’s life. On that night, Woody Platt set up the band’s sound equipment. While it would take a while for friendly exchanges to become flirtations and for flirtations to become love, by 2006, Whitworth and Platt were a couple, and Brevard was their home. After years on the road as a touring musician, Brevard felt like a sanctuary to Whitworth. O.Henry 23
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The Creators of N.C. She left The Biscuit Burners and released a spate of highly-praised solo records, and she soon found herself building her life around two things: her relationships with the people she loved and her art. “Painting reminds me of how I feel when I sing through a microphone,” Whitworth says. “It’s a way of reporting my feelings, and it’s also a place where I can dig deep into healing. It all used to be a way to work through angst.” Since having a child, Whitworth has shifted to creating art from a source of light. “I’m going to a different place when I work now, and I’m still trying to sort that out. I’m learning to use these new tools that motherhood has given me. Sometimes I don’t have the words or the music, but the colors are always there.” Over the past year, Whitworth’s paintings have found homes with a stable of interior designers across the South, and her work has been featured in galleries and shipped all over the country to private collections belonging to the likes of Edie Brickell and Paul Simon.
“When I first began painting, all of my art was coastal, but after settling into the land here and having our son, I just started seeing this landscape so clearly, and it’s reflected in my work. I’m living it,” Whitworth says. “People always tease me about believing in magic, but I always tell them, ‘You’ll believe in magic when it finds you.’” She has risen from her seat at the window, and she is now moving through the house, turning on lamps, their soft light meeting the sound of Patsy Cline’s voice floating from an unseen source somewhere in the kitchen. Whitworth uncorks a bottle of wine and pours a glass. Whether it’s a lamplit room in Hilton Head, a festival stage on the other side of the country, or a light-filled studio where the dew-damp mountains loom in the distance, Shannon Whitworth has always found magic. Or perhaps it has always found her. OH Wiley Cash is the writer-in-residence at the University of North Carolina-Asheville. His new novel, When Ghosts Come Home, will be released this year.
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O.Henry 25
Omnivorous Reader
Defying Mob Rule
Finding justice in the Jim Crow South By Stephen E. Smith
Ben Montgomery’s A Shot in the
Moonlight is a timely retelling of an anomalous story of a former slave who, with the assistance of a Confederate war hero, faced down the forces of white supremacy in the Jim Crow South.
On a moonlit night in January 1897 in Price’s Mill, Kentucky, two dozen “Whitecappers,” self-styled Ku Kluxers, gathered in front of the farmhouse of an innocent 42-year-old former slave, George Dinning, where he slept with his wife and their seven children, and demanded that he submit to the mob’s intent, whatever it might be. Armed with pistols and shotguns, they accused him of theft and ordered him from the relative safety of his home, stating he had just hours to abandon the 125-acre farm he’d worked years to purchase from his former owner and to move himself and his family far away from Price’s Mill. When Dinning denied the accusations of theft and refused to step outside, the mob betrayed their intentions by firing blindly into the cabin, wounding him in the arm and head. Dinning grabbed his shotgun, climbed to the second story of the house and got off a single blast in the moonlight. The shot, although imprecisely aimed, killed 32-year-old Jodie Conn, a member of a wealthy planter family. Then Dinning fled for his life, making good his escape clad only in his nightclothes. The mob dispersed, but vigilantes returned to the Dinning farm the next day, displacing the family and burning the house and outbuildings. Had it not been for Dinning’s desperate act of self-defense and his subsequent escape, his brief encounter with the mob may well have resulted in just another lynching — there had been at least 13 in Kentucky in the preceding year — but the moonlight assault at Price’s Mill turned out to be the exception to the rule. Dinning sought justice through the courts, an almost foolhardy act of audacity in the Jim Crow South. The day following his escape, he surrendered to the sheriff of an adjoining county, who took him into protective custody and moved him to Bowling Green, where he would be safe, at least for a while. When Dinning was transported back to Simpson County for trial, it appeared he might again fall victim to mob violence, but Gov. William Bradley, a Republican, ordered two companies of soldiers to guard the accused, a
26 O.Henry
politically unpopular action that saved Dinning’s life. Trial was held before an all-white jury (Montgomery reproduces much of the transcript verbatim), and astonishingly, Dinning was found not guilty of murder but guilty of manslaughter. He was sentenced to seven years in prison. Even so, there was the possibility he might be lynched before being transported to the state penitentiary. In 1892, 161 Blacks were lynched in the country, and only in cases where Blacks took up arms to protect defendants, most notably in Florida and Kentucky, did intended victims escape mob rule. But Dinning had acted in self-defense and to protect his home and family, engendering widespread support, even among the white community, and within a few weeks he was pardoned by the governor. But the story doesn’t conclude with Dinning’s pardon. He sued his attackers by taking advantage of a legal irregularity meant to quell racial unrest: “ . . . so long as the courts offered the veneer of impartiality,” Montgomery writes, “and Black plaintiffs could access the civil courts to seek justice, they might not revolt or boycott or march or protest other areas of discrimination.” Nevertheless, Dinning’s civil action introduced him to attorney Bennett Young, a well-known lawyer in Louisville, a hero of the Confederacy, a true son of the South who fundraised for Confederate monuments and belonged to veterans’ organizations but who had also founded the Colored Orphans’ Home Society and frequently defended people of color who had been falsely accused of crimes. The Dinning/Young legal alliance is and was a social aberration, one whose circumstances do not fit neatly into the American story, past or present. How Young managed to rationalize his divergent points of view remains unclear, but Montgomery speculates his benevolence was “coupled with white supremacy, the notion that a certain kind of power came from kindness.” Whatever his motivation, Young fought long and hard on Dinning’s behalf, and at the conclusion of initial civil action, the jury found for the plaintiff. The unlikely lawsuit — a Black man suing his white tormentors — was a success, the first of its kind in the country. The judge dismissed a few of the defendants, The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Omnivorous Reader but the remainder were assessed $50,000 in damages, $8,333.33 each, an astronomical sum at the time. Newspapers heaped praise on the judge and jury: “Whatever may be done with the judgment of $50,000, this verdict by a white jury serves notice that mob law is declining in popular favor in Kentucky, and that the State’s standards of procedure are rising,” wrote the Washington Star. “The leaven is in the lump, and it is working” — which, of course, it was not. As expected, several of the defendants claimed they were unable to pay damages — “no property found” was reported to the court — but Dinning continued suing them, extracting what little money he could and tormenting the principals until they were in the grave. Certainly, Dinning’s story of salvation and retribution is worth noting, but so are the stories of the approximately 4,400 victims who did not escape mob rule. They are acknowledged now in The National Memorial for Peace and Justice, and the publication of Shot in the Moonlight is likely, at least in part, a response to recent racial justice demonstrations and the worldwide outrage to the tragic death of George Floyd and other Black Americans who have died under questionable circumstances. Montgomery claims he scrutinized the historical record and reported Dinning’s story accurately and impartially. “I have made just a few of the very safest assumptions,” he writes, “in the service of the story.” But in his introduction, dated 2020, he acknowledges recent examples of white supremacy and racial injustice. He’s emphatic: “The problem with the Confederate flag and the granite statues of dead soldiers is that the Civil War never ended. It developed into skirmishes and entanglements. As Nikole Hannah-Jones has written, it morphed into looser, legal forms of enslavement that are just as damaging as the whip. It rages on Facebook and in classrooms and in the streets of American cities, still.” OH Stephen E. Smith is a retired professor and the author of seven books of poetry and prose. He’s the recipient of the Poetry Northwest Young Poet’s Prize, the Zoe Kincaid Brockman Prize for poetry and four North Carolina Press awards. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Scuppernong Bookshelf
Greensboro Bound:
A Literary Festival It’s here! It’s here!
By Brian Lampkin
In the March issue of O.Henry,
we announced that the May Scuppernong Bookshelf column would give you the schedule of events for this year’s Greensboro Bound Literary Festival, a virtual gathering of the minds held May 13–16. Twenty-one conversations pair North Carolina writers with voices from the outside world. Without further ado, here it is: A Conversation with Roxane Gay
Thursday, May 13, 7–8 p.m. Free Join The New York Times best-selling author ROXANE GAY hosted by CYNTHIA GREENLEE. Gay’s writing explores what it means to be a feminist, a woman of color and, quite simply, a human being with a body.
Dirty Gold: The Rise and Fall of an International Smuggling Ring Friday, May 14, 4–5 p.m. Free An in-depth discussion among veteran investigative reporters KYRA GURNEY, NICHOLAS NEHAMAS, JAY WEAVER, JIM WYSS and host JOHN COX. This talk will unearth the story of death, drugs and corruption within the gold mining industry in Latin America and dredge up the impact of greed on the people caught in its wake.
Craft, Violence and the Art of Storytelling
Friday, May 14, 5–6 p.m. Free Join BRYAN GIEMZA and AMY WELDON as they host novelists JOHN HART, ROD DAVIS and DENNIS McCARTHY. Hart’s latest novel, The Unwilling, is a thriller framed around the consequences of the Vietnam War. Publisher’s Weekly describes Davis’ 2020 novel East of Texas, West of Hell as a maelstrom of meth-dealing, human trafficking and white supremacy.” Dennis McCarthy’s debut novel, The Gospel According to Billy the Kid, moves an American tale of violence and redemption west to New Mexico. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Chefs Ricky Moore & Whitney Otawka
Friday, May 14, 6–7 p.m. Free Host DABNEY SANDERS chats with award-winning chefs and authors WHITNEY OTAWKA and RICKY MOORE.
LIVESTREAM: An Evening with Nnedi Okorafor
Friday, May 14, 7–8 p.m. Free DR. TARA GREEN, UNCG Professor of African American and African Diaspora Studies and the Linda Arnold Carlisle Excellence Professor of Women’s and Gender Studies, explores the past and future with NNEDI OKORAFOR, NigerianAmerican author of Africanfuturism and Africanjujuism.
Our Stories, Our Voices: Four Years On
Saturday, May 15, 10 – 11 a.m Free Our Stories, Our Voices was published in 2018. Nearly four years later, the authors share how their perspectives have changed and how, if given the chance, they might rewrite their essays now. Featuring AMY REED — editor of Our Stories, Our Voices: 21 YA Authors Get Real About Injustice, Empowerment, and Growing Up Female in America — and contributors TRACY DEONN, AMBER SMITH and I.W. GREGORIO.
Hidden Histories
Saturday, May 15, 11–12 p.m. Free ANN CAHILL hosts authors SHANNA GREENE BENJAMIN and LISA LEVENSTEIN as they talk about memory, the public persona and the private individual, the biographer/historian’s relationship to her subject(s) and the intersectionality of sexism, racism and economic inequality.
Love, Justice and Healing
Saturday, May 15, 12–1 p.m. Free MOLLY SENTELL HAILE hosts a discussion on love, justice and healing with SHARON SALZBERG and OMID SAFI. Salzberg, a central figure in the field of meditation, is the author of eleven books, including The New York Times bestseller Real Happiness and, most recently, Real Change. Safi, translator and editor of Radical Love O.Henry 29
Scuppernong Bookshelf is a professor of Islamic studies at Duke University and leads Illuminated Tours interfaith journeys.
Speculative Fiction
Saturday, May 15, 1–2 p.m. Free JASON HERNDON hosts RIVERS SOLOMON and K.M. SZPARA in an exploration of their newest works, which, like the best of speculative fiction, force protagonists to question what’s real in their lives while shining a light on society’s darker corners.
Read Romance, Fight Patriarchy!
Saturday, May 15, 2–3 p.m. Free Host SARAH COLONNA frames the conversation with romance authors KIANNA ALEXANDER, ROSIE DANAN, JOANNA LOWELL and ALISHA RAI. The authors will doubtless unpack the ways in which modern romance writers are reshaping what it means to write romance.
LIVESTREAM: All Up In Your Feels (Poetry Workshop) Saturday, May 15, 2–3:30 p.m. $25 Poets and partners JESSICA JACOBS and NICKOLE BROWN shine a light on the difficult art of writing about love and heartbreak.
Issac Bailey & Bakari Sellers
Saturday, May 15, 3–4 p.m. Free STEPHEN COLYER hosts essayist ISSAC BAILEY, author of Why Didn’t We Riot: A Black Man in Trumpland, and CNN commentator BAKARI SELLERS, author of My Vanishing Country.
Allan Gurganus & George Singleton
Saturday, May 15, 4–5 p.m. Free DREW PERRY hosts a talk with two of the Carolinas’ best short story writers, ALLAN GURGANUS (author of The Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All) and GEORGE SINGLETON (author of the recent You Want More).
30 O.Henry
Poems in a Crisis
Saturday, May 15, 4–5 p.m. Free KATIE KEHOE joins poets TRACI BRIMHALL and NICKOLE BROWN along with editor ALICE QUINN in a soulful discussion of navigating family, the pandemic and remaking the world through poetry.
LIVESTREAM: A Conversation with Billy Collins & Ron Rash
Saturday, May 15, 7–8 p.m. Free Host MICHAEL GASPENY will investigate the mysteries of art and the heart in a discussion with former U.S. Poet Laureate BILLY COLLINS, hailed as “the most popular poet in America,” and RON RASH, who has been celebrated as the “Appalachian Shakespeare.”
ing for years that he was not.
LIVESTREAM: Your Story, Your Voice: A Writing Workshop
Sunday, May 16, 12–1:30 p.m. $25 AMY REED — editor of Our Stories, Our Voices — and contributors AMBER SMITH and I.W. GREGORIO explore how to find your own “voice” in this writing workshop. Ideal for young adults, parents of young adults, aspiring YA writers and those who identify with marginalized communities.
The Soul of the Novel
Our Stories, Our Voices: Writing as Activism
Sunday, May 16, 10–11 a.m. Free AMY REED — editor of Our Stories, Our Voices — and contributors AMBER SMITH and I.W. GREGORIO discuss what it means to write in one’s own voice.
Sunday, May 16, 1–2 p.m. Free KAITLYN GREENIDGE and ANNETTE SAUNOOKE CLAPSADDLE are two rising stars in the world of literary fiction. Greenidge’s Libertie has been called “Pure brilliance.” Lee Smith says Clapsaddle’s Even As We Breathe “lifts the curtain to show us a South we don’t know . . . A wonderful novel, complicated as life itself.” This conversation is moderated by N.C. novelist ZELDA LOCKHART and informed by her work, The Soul of the FullLength Manuscript.
Writing Outside the Lines: Nonbinary Authors Changing YA
LIVESTREAM: Candacy Taylor and The Historic Magnolia House
Sunday, May 16, 11 a.m. – 12 p.m. Free Authors MASON DEAVER and NITA TYNDALL join host SHANNON JONES in a conversation about how Young Adult authors outside the gender binary are reshaping that world.
Art of Memoir with Ginger Gaffney & James Tate Hill
Sunday, May 16, 12–1 p.m. Free Authors GINGER GAFFNEY and JAMES TATE (JT) HILL talk about the craft of writing memoir with host STEVE MITCHELL. Gaffney’s Half Broke is the memoir of a woman who relates more to horses than people and finds a home of sorts teaching at an alternative prison ranch. Blind Man’s Bluff is James Tate Hill’s memoir of becoming legally blind at age 16 — but pretend-
Sunday, May 16, 2–3 p.m. Free CANDACY TAYLOR, author of Overground Railroad: The Green Book and the Roots of Black Travel in America, joins preservationist NATALIE PASS-MILLER at The Historic Magnolia House, one of only four Green Book sites in North Carolina still in operation. Taylor reaches into her personal history to share the story of the Green Book and the roots of Black travel in America.
A Measure of Belonging: 21 Writers of Color on the New American South
Sunday, May 16, 3–4 p.m. Free IVELISSE RODRIGUEZ and DIANA CEJAS join CINELLE BARNES, editor of A Measure of Belonging: 21 Writers of Color on The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Scuppernong Bookshelf the New American South, to talk about their experiences — the good, the bad and the befuddling — of living down South.
Naima Coster & Leesa Cross-Smith
Sunday, May 16, 4–5 p.m. Free At the center of the powerful, tender new titles, What’s Mine and Yours by NAIMA COSTER and This Close to Okay by LEESA CROSSSMITH, are deftly wrought, perfectly imperfect characters with paths that can never be unwoven from another or from the ways we see our communities and ourselves.
A Conversation on Race & Grace in America
Sunday, May 16, 5–6 p.m. Free The nonfiction work of DENISE KIERNAN has become surefire bestseller material. Her latest book, We Gather Together, brings her considerable gifts to the untold story of Lincoln and the burgeoning of the Thanksgiving holiday. Kiernan will join D. WATKINS — author of the recent We Speak for Ourselves: How Woke Culture Prohibits Progress (and also The Cook-Up: A Crack Rock Memoir and The Beast Side: Living (and Dying) While Black in America) — introduces you to Down Bottom, the storied community of East Baltimore that holds a mirror to America’s poor Black neighborhoods. As Watkins sees it, the perspective of people who live in economically disadvantaged Black communities is largely absent from the commentary of many top intellectuals who speak and write about race.
Wilmington’s Lie: A Conversation with John Sayles & David Zucchino
Sunday, May 16, 6–7 p.m. Free JOHN SAYLES is an indy film legend. His 2011 novel, A Moment in the Sun, looks at America in 1898 and the Wilmington Race Riot figures prominently in the narrative. DAVID ZUCCHINO’s 2020 nonfiction book, Wilmington’s Lie: The Murderous Coup of 1898 and the Rise of White Supremacy, is the definitive book on the massacre. Together, Sayles and Zucchino will talk about the atmosphere in Wilmington in 1898 and the lasting impact of the white riot through the 20th Century. The discussion will also focus on the parallels with the January 6, 2021, insurrection and the continued strain of white supremacy in America. Hosted by BRIAN LAMPKIN.
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Guilford County Schools High School Poet Laureate Year-end Reading
Wednesday, May 19, 6–9 p.m. Free Hosted by Jennifer Worrells, HS Poet Laureate coordinator and Library Media Specialist at Grimsley High School. OH For more information about the virtual Greensboro Bound Literary Festival and complete biographies of the participants, visit greensborobound.com/events/list. Brian Lampkin is one of the proprietors of Scuppernong Books. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O'HENRY Magazine April AND May 2021 Half Pg Ad.indd 1
3/8/21 31 10:00 AM O.Henry
Home by Design
Meet the Turnip Toffs A little salt, a little pepper and a brave new sense of adventure
By Cynthia Adams
I am a Turnip Toff. In fact,
both my hubby and I are Turnip Toffs, a derisive term typically reserved for hoity-toity Brits. We are neither to the manner born nor to the manor born. Nonetheless, we are Turnip Toffs of a different variety. Here’s how I know for sure: We grew giddy over a bag of turnips from Farlow Farm’s CSA last spring. What is a CSA, you ask? It stands for Community Supported Agriculture. If you are a farm-born person like me, Community Supported Agriculture is an amazing concept. For a membership fee, you get a share of the farm’s locally grown produce. The farmers grow it. You pick it up — in our case, from the Greensboro Farmers’ Curb Market. Located in nearby Archdale, Farlow Farms is one of a small handful of farms offering CSA memberships in the Triad area. Never did I imagine that I would be so excited about lowly turnips. Last spring, if not for picking up our CSA vegetables on designated Saturdays, we wouldn’t have had any plans at all. Our rendezvous with the vegetable kingdom included one-on-ones with kale, colloquies with collard greens, bonding with broccolini, sashaying with spring onions and Swiss chard, and quiet evenings with strawberries, potatoes, eggplant, squash and cucumbers. Home from market, we got intimate with our new friends in granular detail on the tiled counter, like a CSI for a CSA.
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“Which do you think — is this collards or kale?” My hubby asked, holding something green aloft. Given my farming background I bluffed, but for all I knew it was chard. “Kale.” “Hmmm,” he said. In the end, we’d consult the farm’s email for a positive I.D. “What are we going to do with it?” “I’m thinking we will make kale chips,” I peeped. “And salad.” Mind you, I had never eaten a kale chip. But I had spent much of my pandemic free time watching what people ate on the internet. So, we fired up a YouTube video then prepped the kale. It was a two-person job. First, we washed it. Then we dissected it, cutting the tough kale ribs away before drying and dicing it. After anointing the rugged leaves with olive oil and sprinkling them with sea salt, into the oven they went for a good bake. “Hmmm,” hubby said a quick 12 minutes later. “Is that a good hmmm, or a bad hmmm,” I asked, hovering. “Just a hmmmm. As in, it’s not a potato chip . . .” We were amazed by how many vegetables we had never before eaten. Like bok choy, which I had only ever seen in Chinese takeout. Once we found things we could do with this cute little vegetable, like stir frying it in garlic and ginger, we discovered that we liked it. Score 1 for bok choy! Summer rolled around and squash and eggplants came to visit our home. “What is that?” hubby asked suspiciously, pointing to the crockpot where squash, tomatoes and onion roiled. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Home by Design “It’s ratatouille. French. You know. Like the children’s film,” I offered defensively. “Ratatouille sounds so great, doesn’t’ it?” I asked with enthusiasm I didn’t really feel. Look, I am no Ina Garten. He nodded with noticeably less enthusiasm. “Looks like vegetable soup,” he said, stirring it with the large wooden spoon. I chopped an eggplant, pointedly ignoring him, then tossed the meaty chunks into the pot. His mouth twisted ever so slightly sideways. Ruefully. Once sacrificed to the dish, he wasn’t wrong: the caldron of summer’s bounty looked exactly like vegetable soup. I wilted just a little myself, reclaimed the spoon, stirred the brew energetically, then covered the pot and ordered him out of the kitchen. That evening, ratatouille filled two fetching Seagrove pottery bowls. We were not in a Paris bistro with a baguette on the table, but it was ratatouille showtime. “This needs salt,” I admitted, tasting. “Maybe pepper.” His eyes stayed fixed upon the steaming bowl. The first spoonful passed his lips. Then another. “Maybe France,” he added. Then, wordlessly, he smiled, refilling our glasses with a Trader Joe’s red that I reserve for lower expectation occasions. We sipped, slid our soup spoons into the ratatouille, slurped — and most importantly — shut up. But Turnip Toffs being Turnip Toffs, we couldn’t help ourselves. We signed up for the CSA again this year. OH For more information about local participating CSAs, including NIMBY Gardens, Emmaus Farms, Pine Trough Branch Farm and Handance Farm, visit www.gsofarmersmarket.org/what-is-a-csa/ In case you were wondering, O.Henry’s contributing editor Cynthia Adams won’t, in fact, be sharing her ratatouille recipe with the public. But she does recommend an extra pinch or three of salt. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Serial Eater
Frog Legs with a Side of Simple Charm Epicurean delights in — where? — Wallburg
By Jason Oliver Nixon
When you think of North Carolina culinary pilgrimages, you might envision Vivian Howard’s Chef & the Farmer in Kinston or The Fearrington House Restaurant in Pittsboro.
But tucked inside a sunny Doris Day yellow, two-story building smack in between the post office and a mulch outpost in downtown Wallburg — yes, that blip in the road between Winston-Salem and Thomasville — there’s an unexpected epicurean gem. Welcome to the Wallburg Diner, folks. Although the kicky blue shutters give it some flair, the diner isn’t much to look at. Inside, décor leans heavily on bolted-down booths with Cracker Barrel-styled vintage signage. Think retro Mountain Dew ads on the walls, paper towel rolls on the tables. Where, you ask, are we going with this? Straight to the menu. And in particular: the chef’s ever-changing specials, which you’ll find scribbled across the Dry Erase wall opposite the diner’s open kitchen. The diner’s everyday laminated menu features the usual suspects (cheese omelets and burgers), but peruse the aforementioned “Specials” board — complete with bright pink flourishes — for the unexpected. Crispy fried frog legs, for example, which we sampled on a recent Thursday evening.
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“We sold out fast,” our charming server, Wendy, told us. Don’t expect foie gras. But if hearty fare such as the cajun shrimp po boy with tangy homemade remoulade and kicked-up slaw piques your fancy, you’re at the right place. Dive into the brisket sub served au jus with a horseradish mayo and crispy onions or the loaded-up chicken-and-sausage gumbo paired with a soul-satisfying grilled cheese — just $7.95. And that includes your drink of choice! Or the buttermilk fried chicken and “sugar-glazed Belgian waffle” topped with a chipotle maple syrup. And don’t pass up on the sides, such as the fried green tomatoes, as you side-glance the crowd that ranges from contractor types to families and gents in Barbour vests with artsy glasses. Thank affable chef/owner Josh Hartley for the diner’s vision. “I grew up in Wallburg and worked at a local restaurant all through high school,” says Hartley. “My grandfather was a chef, and I think that that really inspired me.” Hartley caught the epicurean bug and eventually moved to Charleston, where he received a culinary degree from Johnson & Wales. After cooking high-end Lowcountry fare around the Holy City for several years, the Triad tempted him back, and Hartley served as the executive chef at Thomasville’s Colonial Country Club for twelve years. “I swore that I was retiring from food service,” says Hartley, “and then, in 2016, I somehow ended up buying the Wallburg Diner. And here we are. I wanted to keep the diner’s vibe but kick it up a The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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notch. I tried to liven up the menu so that it wasn’t just country-fried steak and the like.” So, we ask, are there any other unexpected delights we ought to know about? “Folks love our chicken gizzards,” notes Hartley. “We boil them with white wine, celery, garlic and bay leaves to soften them up and then soak them in buttermilk, dredge them and fry them up. Perfection.” And future visions? Perhaps beer and wine, says Hartley — but who knows? “I look up to superstar chef Sean Brock of Husk fame. He is such a renegade and really has the gumption to do anything. Still, I am not trying to blow anyone’s mind.” His aim, he says modestly, is “to create cooking that is simple enough so that it’s understandable.” Smiling himself, he says, “I just want our guests to walk away with a big smile.” OH The Madcap Cottage gents, Jason Oliver Nixon and John Loecke, delight in the unexpected — prints, patterns or frog legs.
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Birdwatch
Catbird Seat
Spring return of a special bird
By Susan Campbell
Our area is home to scores of
avian species during the summer months. One of which, the gray catbird, often goes unnoticed. A cousin of the northern mockingbird, it is also a mimic: a bird that learns the songs of others to advertise territory and to impress a mate. Catbirds have no melodious tune of their own — just a string of copied phrases. Nonetheless, this is a special bird, one that I anticipate each spring as the vegetation springs back to life and the days lengthen. Although superficially resembling a blackbird given the overall dark grayish-black plumage, gray catbirds have a slender bill and a long tail. They have a velvety black cap as well as a striking rusty rump and, if you can get close enough, you will notice their deep red eyes. These are truly handsome creatures. The bird’s name comes from the fact that, in between phrases of borrowed song, they utter a “meeew” call that is very cat-like. Some might say that their skulking habits seem very feline as well. Perhaps it is their relatively large size that requires a secretive lifestyle so as not to be grabbed by a predator. Catbirds’ bulky stick nests are a challenge to locate, usually well hidden in thick vegetation Gray catbirds return to parks and gardens by early April. As with other long-distance migrants that spend the winter in the tropics, they journey northward on long, nighttime flights. Their destination is typically close to the spot where they themselves hatched. Once they arrive, although catbirds will instantly start to sing and display, they seem in no hurry to get down to breeding. It will be July before the first fuzzy
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
youngsters appear. The adults remain quite aggressive throughout the season, chasing competitors such as mockingbirds, northern cardinals and American robins. They will even attack their own reflection in windows when they are nesting close to a home or vehicle. These birds are generalists with a wide-ranging diet through the course of the year. During the summer months, they feed mainly on insects. Individuals are known to eat small lizards as well. This is yet another bird which requires an abundance of invertebrates to raise its young (typically two broods of three or four). Therefore, chemical applications, whether pesticides or herbicides, are a very real threat to the species’ breeding success. Gray catbirds will switch to eating fruit come fall as berries of all kinds become abundant. They may be attracted to feeders that offer suet or even oranges, apples or cranberries. These birds will readily consume mealworms as well. Not all gray catbirds will return to Mexico or Central America in the winter. Some spend the colder months along the coastline of the southeastern United States. If you travel to the Outer Banks or Wilmington between October and March, do not be surprised if you hear that distinctive “meeew” emanating from thick maritime scrub. However, individuals overwintering in areas with human development are increasingly susceptible to hazards such as habitat loss, vehicle collisions and predation by cats. Distractions associated with foraging at a time of year when food is less plentiful are more likely to be fatal. We certainly need to be aware of the threats that affect our avian friends such as gray catbirds. Too many species are struggling as a result of habitat alteration, invasive species and wide-spread chemical use. So please consider joining me: The seemingly small actions we can take in our own yards will add up to a significant improvement in the welfare of central North Carolina’s songbird populations. OH Susan would love to receive your wildlife observations and/or photos at susan@ncaves.com. O.Henry 37
Wandering Billy
Blast from the Past When Blockbuster and Netflix fell short, Video Review had it all
By Billy Eye The VCR is to the American film producer and the American public as the Boston Strangler is to the woman home alone. — Jack Valenti
It’s been a decade
since one of my favorite places in Greensboro, Video Review on Westover Terrace, closed its doors. You can’t possibly understand my grief. That place was responsible in no small part for one of the most successful network television experiences of my life. Seriously.
I stumbled into a television “career” in 2002 when VH1 asked me to write for and appear on a brand-new series called SuperSecret TV Formulas, which would be a companion to the network’s popular I Love the ’80s docu-series. Since I had a book out at the time, I figured why not? Besides, I had a gnawing hunger to prove (mostly to myself) that I could excel at something I’d never attempted before. SuperSecret became the highest-rated program on VH1 that fall. Figuring that was a one-and-done situation, I was surprised to find myself involved with the same kind of gig for the Bravo network, filming in L.A. and New York just a few short months later. In 2004, the latest iteration of that Bravo series became 100 Funniest Movies, a “talking head” countdown-type of show. Basically, I’d been given a list of one hundred movies that would require my snarky commentary. I was familiar with most of them but, in dozens of cases, hadn’t watched these films in several years. Needless to say, I had homework to do. I was disappointed but hardly surprised to discover that Blockbuster was well stocked with the latest DVD releases — but not so much the ’60s and ’70s-era comedies I was searching for. Netflix fell short as well. But after commiserating with my pal Michael Scott (not the guy from Dunder Mifflin), my world opened up.
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“Go to Video Review,” Michael replied casually. “Where?” I must have passed that spot a thousand times — never gave it a thought. Wandering through the doors for the first time, my heart leapt upon seeing row after row of shelves packed with DVDs and, more importantly, a staggering inventory of films on VHS tucked alongside them. They had every single motion picture on my list. I recently caught up with Jason Laws, son of Jim Laws, who was the owner/proprietor of Video Review. Jason and his brother, Michael, were working the counter when I was furiously renting the maximum number of videos for weeks on end. “I mean, I was born into this,” says Jason, who started shelving movies at the store when he was 12 or 13. “I actually started working the counter at around 15 or 16. When you’re in a family business, that’s kind of normal.” Jason’s father, accountant Jim Laws, entered the video rental biz in 1983, two years before the first Blockbuster store in Texas debuted and many more before that chain became ubiquitous. “He and my mom looked at various opportunities,” Jason says. “At one point, they considered a wine and cheese store.” In 1983, the Laws bought into a fledgling franchise, Video Connection. They opened with an inventory of 125 titles — just about everything out there that wasn’t X-rated. “Video stores sold more equipment then,” Jason says of a time when video cassette recorders were retailing for around $1,000 ($2,640 in 2021 currency). “It was high-dollar stuff. My father would actually go into people’s homes to set up their VCRs.” The Video Connection chain unraveled in 1985, just as the price of VCRs dropped below $300. Before long, VCRs were cheap and readily available. Rebranding the business as Video Review, Jim Laws was determined to go it alone, despite video rentals being an alien concept to the general public. “People would come into the store and think it was an arcade,” Jason says. “They had no clue what video was. We were really in on the ground floor, but that was a good thing because it became a rapidly growing industry.” The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Wandering Billy After six years at Caldwell Square, Video Review moved south next to Outback on Westover Terrace in 1990. For the next 21 years, that place served as a cultural lighthouse for those seeking refuge from reality. Foot traffic was so brisk that the Laws opened a second location at Adams Farm. In the early-2000s, strolling the copious aisles at Video Review to select a suitable flick for date night was a genuine bonding experience. Entire families were inexorably drawn by the gravitational pull of a 7,000-square-foot showroom displaying well over 150 thousand titles. “That’s probably the main thing people miss: the tactile experience of seeing everything laid out,” Jason says. “And I think about all the people with their kids that grew up in the store. Later, some of those kids would come to work for us.” New videos arrived every Friday but wouldn’t hit the “New Releases” wall until Tuesday. One nice clerk perk? “You could take new videos home and watch them over the weekend,” Jason says. “That way you’re ahead of everybody. We can say, ‘Hey, no, you don’t want to watch that.’” As the 21st century unfolded, Netflix’s signature red envelopes began peeking out of just about everybody’s mailbox. If, as the song goes, video killed the radio star, then streaming snuffed out the video store. The Adams Farm branch closed in 2008. Then, after 27 years of
business, the Westover Terrace megastore shuttered in 2011. “Video Review was a library of culture and film,” says Greensboro’s chanteuse extraordinaire Jessica Mashburn (pictured left doing her best Dolly Levi impression). “A place a nerdy artist like myself could go and discuss the latest releases and exchange one-liners with the staff. I always left there feeling joyful and connected to people like me. It was a constant of my childhood here in Greensboro, and I was present for the final hour of its existence.” What does Jason miss most about those days? Quality time with his dad, he says. Bravo was thrilled with the ratings for 100 Funniest Movies, which must have made an impression in the Big Apple because, in 2005, VH1 summoned me back to work on 100 Greatest Kid Stars. I asked the producer, “Who’s going to be No. 1? Shirley Temple, Spanky McFarland or Stymie Beard?” None of them, she replied. “It’s Gary Coleman.” I thought, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” and begged off the project. As much as I came to enjoy the process and the people involved, I didn’t have any desire to be on television in the first place. OH Billy Eye returned to his hometown (yep, Greensboro) in 1994 after 16 years of working as a writer and artist for the entertainment industry in LA. Oh, and Bravo’s No. 1 funniest movie? Animal House.
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I Swear
This won’t hurt. I’ll always love you. You’re perfect. I do. I will. I didn’t. It wasn’t — You’ve got it all wrong. I only want what’s best for you. This will be good for both of us. Nothing can be done. You’ll never change. It wasn’t my fault. I’m only trying to help. No one’s to blame. It will be better soon. — Debra Kaufman
May 2021
Indigo bunting in wheat by Tom Baker
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
In the field with the Piedmont Bird Club By Jim Dodson
ot long after sunrise on a crisp spring morning, a dozen members of the Piedmont Bird Club gather in the graveled parking area of A&T State’s University Farm on McConnell Road. Bundled in fleece jackets and gloves, ranging in age from 25 to 75, the group buzzes with the excitement of a class reunion. “It’s always a little like this,” explains the outing’s coordinator, Lynn Moseley. “Part of it is the usual anticipation of seeing new birds for our lists. But it’s also the simple pleasure of seeing other members that we haven’t been with in quite a while due to the pandemic. Birding is something that brings people from all walks of life together — especially now.” At a time when everything from bowling alleys to churches shuttered, traditional outdoor activities like hiking, gardening, golf and birdwatching have experienced a surge of popularity. Moseley, retired T. Gilbert Pearson professor of biology at Guilford College, has led birding safaris around the world for decades. She points out that public interest in birdwatching can’t come a minute too soon, especially given the startling news from the journal Science last September that, since the 1970s, North America has 3 billion fewer birds — or roughly 30 percent of the total population — due to habitat loss and other environment-related factors. The findings from the most comprehensive study ever conducted on North America’s 760 species of common birds revealed that numerous groups, including sparrows, warblers, finches and blackbirds, were particularly hard-hit. The report singled out the threat to shorebirds, noting that some species face the prospect of extinction. Which is why, says Moseley, organizations like the Piedmont Bird Club and local Audubon Society chapters are working hard to expand awareness of the problem and promote interest in learning about bird life. “On the positive side,” she adds, “even over the pandemic, we have seen growth in membership and interest in our monthly online Zoom programs. The good news is that the Piedmont has always been home to a lot of dedicated and passionate birders.” In part, this explains why the Piedmont Bird Club is one of the state’s oldest birding organizations, founded by a group of dedicated, but loosely organized, UNCG professors (then Woman’s College) who were concerned about cats endangering the Gate City’s wild bird populations. Upon learning that the city council only considered proposed ordinancThe Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 43
Prothonotary warbler by Matt Wangerin es from organized groups, the professors formed the Piedmont Bird Club in February, 1938. In its early years, club members worked closely with Guilford County Schools to organize bird-house-building contests and promote public education about wild birds, eventually partnering with the T. Gilbert Pearson Audubon Society (now one of ten chapters of the National Audubon Society in North Carolina) to expand public appreciation of local bird populations and the importance of preserving their natural habitats, earning Greensboro early designation as an official Bird Sanctuary. When former Greensboro mayor Carolyn Allen moved to the city from Texas in 1962, as she puts it, “my husband, Don, and I knew the difference between a cardinal and a blue jay, but that was about the extent of our bird knowledge. But when a colleague from the college invited Don and me to a meeting and on a field trip with the bird club, that all changed in a hurry. We quickly got hooked. The club members were wonderful and the diversity of birds in this state was incredible.” Half a century later, Allen is still an active member of the PBC, which today boasts close to 300 members across the Triad, many of whom also belong to the local Audubon chapter that’s named for the famous UNCG conservationist who helped found the National Association of Audubon Societies, now the National Audubon Society. Under the guidance of early members like Margaret Law and Etta Schiffman, the Allens joined the ranks of hundreds of Triad birders whose passion for birds grew exponentially from the club’s many educational programs and frequent field trips around the state and region, including participation in the annual Audubon Christmas Bird Count and North Carolina’s annual Spring
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Count, which typically happens each May. “We’re blessed to live in a place where so many species of migrating birds come through during the spring and fall,” notes the former mayor, whose birding passion — like that of many members — led the Allens on birding trips across America. “I don’t think I’ve missed a Christmas or spring bird count since 1964,” she adds. Her daughter, Emily Talbert, is also an active and knowledgeable PBC member who participates in the annual counts. Like most dedicated birders, Allen keeps track of wild birds she’s seen on field trips or in her yard near the Bog Garden in Greensboro. Still, she admits she’s not a “bigtime lister” like many of the current club members who travel extensively to see, record and photograph species in the wild. “That’s the beauty of the Bird Club,” she adds. “You have several reasons people belong to the club. Some are competitive birders who are devoted to adding to their life lists — meaning birds they’ve seen in the wild — while others like me just enjoy being out in nature and in the company of people who share a love of birds. The social aspect is also important.” “Once birding gets into your bloodstream,” agrees Ann VanSant, “it’s impossible not to fall in love with watching and photographing birds.” On this early spring morning, the group is venturing down a gravel track to a farm pond where there are hopes of catching a glimpse of several species of rare ducks and possibly even the elusive Wilson’s snipe. VanSant and her partner, Dr. Roberta Newton, both of whom retired from top teaching posts at Philadelphia’s Temple University and relocated to Greensboro in 2011, turned their hobby into a sweet obsession that’s taken the pair on birding expeditions to every continent on Earth. They are currently on a quest to “bird” all 100 of North Carolina’s counties. “We’re up to 93 and counting,” explains Newton, a former professor of physical therapy. “Covid slowed us down a bit, but we’re getting back in the swing of things. Every place we bird is interesting because the birds are so different anywhere you go. Each place changes with the seasons and the annual migrations. So there is always something exciting to see.” VanSant, longtime professor of pediatric physical therapy, is the team photographer, having captured thousands of spectacular images of wild birds in their travels. She credits growing up near a wildlife sanctuary on the New Jersey coast and watching the seasonal return of snow geese with her father as a starting point of her love affair with wild birds. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Roseate spoonbill by Tom Baker
Great blue heron by Lee Capps The Art & Soul of Greensboro
O.Henry 45
Baby mute swans by Lee Capps
“Once you get the right equipment,” she says, “the fun really begins. There’s always the hope of getting the perfect shot of a rare bird for your list, but even the common birds are magnificent. You never know what you are going to see through the camera lens. That’s half the adventure.” Matt Wangerin, chair of the club’s field-trip group, is a 20-year birder who has photographed birds from Alaska to Costa Rica. The digital revolution in camera technology, he says, has made wildlife photography much more accessible to birders of all skill levels. But cost of cameras, spotting scopes and high-quality binoculars can run well into the multiple thousands. “There’s no question that digital photography has changed the popularity of birding, attracted more people than ever to the hobby — which, for some of us, really verges on a true obsession. The quality of the photography of many of our members proves that.” He points out that members regularly submit their photos to the Cornell University’s famed Lab of Ornithology for identification of bird species. Lee Capps, a retired print broker from Burlington, has been photographing birds since 1981, having started his casual hobby with a 35mm Sears, Roebuck & Co. camera, shooting birds in his backyard and over the fence at his neighbor’s feeders. “The digital revolution really changed everything for me,” he explains. “When Canon came out with its first digital camera around
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2006, I used it in my printing business but eventually the birds took it over.” His original Canon recently expired, having taken more than 184,000 photographs. Capps went on his first PBC walk in 2017 and was pleased by what he discovered. “The members were great, very welcoming, like birds of a feather,” he quips. “They’re also very knowledgeable about wild birds and always eager to share what they know. I’ve learned so much on those walks. They know the best sites around for seeing wild birds.” Capps is a frequent user of the club’s highly active website for posting his pictures. “Anytime I can’t identify a bird I’ve shot, I post online and within minutes I get seven or eight members responding who can identify the birds. Part of the pleasure,” he adds, “is posting photography you know others will appreciate and respond to.” These days, he rarely misses any of the club’s bird walks and even took up kayaking on the Piedmont’s lakes to get closer to water birds, netting spectacular shots of osprey, eagles and cormorants. “Currently,” he explains, “Lynn Moseley and I are both keeping up with an osprey nest on the bridge over Lake Mackintosh, hoping to get shots of any babies.” On organized PBC field trips, which the club puts on several times a year around the region, Matt Wangerin is something of an eagle-eyed interpreter, able to identify birds by their various calls. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
During the walk down to A&T State’s farm pond, for example, he points out the call of a red-shouldered hawk from the nearby woods. Sure enough, it soon appears, cruising for its breakfast high above the farm’s pastures — when Wangerin spots a kestrel sunning itself on a fence post. Upon his word, members halt and binoculars rise in unison. Tripod scopes zero in on the bird and cameras click. Wangerin hears the call of an Eastern meadowlark and the process repeats itself. Down at the farm pond, northern shoveler and hooded merganser ducks are seen and photographed along with the elusive Wilson’s snipe, which sends a palpable charge into the faithful, including a handful of newcomers out for their first bird walk. As the day warms and the birds begin to appear, so does the lively conversation among members, young and old. “The social aspect of birding is really a major attraction for many of our members,” says outgoing club president Stella Wear. “To share a love of nature and beautiful birds is a wonderful thing, especially at a time when birds are so endangered. It’s this kind of shared awareness that can make a big difference in their preservation.” Anna and Jerry Weston agree. The retired teaching specialist and lawyer have been dedicated members of the Piedmont Bird Club and T. Gilbert Pearson Audubon Society for many years. They’re also keen kayakers, backpackers, native plant enthusiasts, Sierra Club members, yoga fans and hikers who log at least three miles per day. “This is the first time we’ve been out since last March,” explains Jerry as the group heads off for the demonstration fields across McConnell Road, where hopes of seeing pipits and killdeer are high. “It’s nice to get back into the outdoors . . . feels almost like a liberation.” “Watching birds is a wonderful way to feel liberated,” Anna picks up on a theme. “You see them fly and it reminds you of what a wonderful place this world really is — and why we have to protect it.” OH
Red-shouldered hawk by Matt Wangerin
For more information about local birding with the Piedmont Bird Club, visit www. piedmontbirdclub.org. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Guilford’s
Quietest Places
One intrepid trekker explores a patchwork of local preserves with a motley crew of companions By David Claude Bailey
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
PHOTOGRAPH BY LYNN DONOVAN
D
oes it surprise you that Guilford County has 10 “passive” parks, covering thousands of acres with hundreds of miles of trails? Who knew? Not me. But during our COVID winter, I began exploring what are, in my opinion, Guilford’s most unappreciated parks, each one an incredible sanctum of serenity. Largely undeveloped with low-impact trails, they are sometimes called preserves. How, you ask, did we get so lucky? Decades ago, Guilford’s decision-makers realized that an area’s quality of life is directly connected to how much open space is set aside to balance congestion and urban sprawl. Consequently, they decided to spend tens of millions of dollars to keep the green in Greensboro — and High Point and the rest of the county. It was nothing short of prescient. Now protected are open areas offering habitat for wild critters, historical sites, places for groundwater to recharge, plus acres and acres of tall trees and lush plants that gobble up carbon dioxide and discharge oxygen, all while boosting city-dwellers’ quality of life. The bonanza for hikers — and those of us addicted to nature — are meandering streams, breathtaking vistas, wildlife encounters and, for me, the peace that passeth all understanding. Go. Find your own peace and beauty. But, first, be sure to check Guilford County’s Passive Parks website to make sure they’re open: www.guilfordcountync.gov/our-county/county-parks/passive-parks/
TOP PHOTOGRAPH BY LYNN DONOVAN
Richardson-Taylor Preserve “The Durga Dog needs a romp,” my friend says, so Saturday finds us on the 3.8-mile Bill Craft Trail, which winds through the 400-plus-acre tract that the Richardson and Taylor families passed on to the county. I was meeting Durga for the first time and it turns out she has as many forms as the Hindu Goddess she’s named for. Carolina dog? Definitely. Pitbull? No doubt. German shepherd? Look at that muzzle. But watching her course her way down the meandering trail through the preserve’s remote and open woods convinces me that Durga is in touch with her inner-wolf. She carefully sniffs clusters of mushrooms that crowd the forest floor. She checks out the lush explosion of spring flora in the marshy bottomland. Almost tippy-toeing, she waltzes across the chilly creek, then bravely marches past the sign that reads “Beware of Coyotes.” One of the volunteers who helped build this trail seven years ago told me that “the forest is like an outdoor cathedral.” Surrounded by sycamores with paper-white bark and oaks that reach toward the clouds, Durga ghosts through the sunshine and shadows that fall on a bank of ferns worthy of Jurassic Park. We agree. This is Durga’s temple. Length: 7-plus miles, out and back on the Bill Craft Trail Difficulty: Easy and fairly level, with a few ups and downs Don’t miss: The beavers if you can spot them Good to know: Slippery when wet and still under remediation, as the county calls it. Address: 350 Plainfield Road, Greensboro The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Cascades Preserve My hiking buddy, Joe, is all too ready for a walk in the woods. He splits his time between his childhood home of Greensboro and his house near the Capitol in Washington. Things have been just a little too exciting for Joe in his D.C. neighborhood of late. And so it is on a sunny afternoon that we’re trying to find the Cascades Preserve trailhead. At first, my aging GPS takes us to a Goodwill Church Road in Forsyth County. At the trailhead, it takes us five minutes to realize that, duh!, the trail is on the other side of the road from the parking lot. “Despite the name, don’t expect dramatic cataracts or thundering waterfalls,” I tell Joe. The 2-mileout-and-back trail takes us through a thick copse of scrub pines before heading downhill. We zigzag across a babbling creek into a handsome stand of succession hardwoods. “It’s amazing how remote and secluded this seems,” Joe says. “We’re only six miles from Oak Ridge.” And, believe it or not, we're on N.C.’s Mountain-to-Sea Trail. After easing into a mature pine forest carpeted with a thick blanket of pine needles, we come to an overlook. A continuing course of small waterfalls spills down a steep incline, tumbling over rocks and, yes, cascading over one rill after another. “Cascades may be a bit of an exaggeration,” Joe says, “but it’s so peaceful. I needed this.” Length: About 2 miles out and back — more like 4 miles if you take all the loops Difficulty: Moderately challenging in places, especially on the loops Don’t miss: One of the loop trails has a dramatic observation deck looking out over a tranquil gorge Good to know: Make sure you set your sights on Guilford County and don’t end up on the Goodwill Church Road in Forsyth County Address: 7359 Goodwill Church Road, Kernersville
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Company Mill Preserve
PHOTOGRAPHS BY LYNN DONOVAN
My friend Ashley, who’d just moved back to Greensboro (and, yes, happens to also be the editor of this magazine), mentioned that she’s sick and tired of Zoom meetings and deadlines. I know just the remedy, I told her: a few minutes of soaking in the sounds of Big Alamance Creek where it cascades over the historic and hand-stacked Company Mill dam. After lolling around on an observation pier jutting out into the mill pond, we trade stories about our childhood encounters with cattails. But I’m eager to show her the towering oaks less than a mile from the parking lot. We launch out onto the trail, which follows a crooked creek through a lush marsh vibrant with newly hatched aquatic plants. Little birds flitter through the underbrush. Serenaded by a chorus of frogs, we ascend the ridge line into the shady majesty of a mature hardwood forest. We stroll past rocky outcrops, adjacent pastureland and spots that offer vistas of farmland and McMansions in the distance. Midway along the trail, a rustic, two-story nineteenthcentury log homestead emerges from the woods. Then a pair of abandoned tobacco barns. Hopping over rocks to cross the creek (I understand there’s a bridge now), we end up at Hagan-Stone Park, where we turn around after checking out a restored log cabin — and, yes, rest rooms. Hiking this trail is a little like taking a trip back into North Carolina’s rural history, we decide, but without Zoom meetings. Length: Less than six miles out and back Difficulty: Moderate with a fair amount of up and down Don’t miss: There are several loop trails and spurs if you want to extend your walk in the woods Good to know: The trail can be muddy, even impassible in places if you’re picky about getting your feet wet. Ashley retired a pair of flats and will be bringing her trail boots next time. Address: 6344 Company Mill Rd., Climax The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Rich Fork Preserve After struggling through the maze of congestion on High Point’s North Main Street, my friend Chip and I breathe a sigh of relief as we take a left onto the residential calm of Parris Avenue. In less than a mile, we come to the gates of Rich Fork Preserve, where we’re greeted by a hooting owl as soon as the car door opens. Chip, whose knees seem, to him, a decade older than he is, is relieved to see a half-mile jaunt outlined on the map. “This was someone’s farm,” he says as we hit the trail, looking at a modest residence. “And those are probably tobacco barns.” Our short walk in the woods is shadowed by poplars sawing in the winds and, here and there, majestic oaks. We stay on a high bluff, overlooking the ripples of a creek snaking though a ravine. Old roads crisscross the trail, and abandoned fence posts and perhaps a dozen buildings punctuate our trek. “It’s the old Hedgecock farmstead,” I tell him. “A website says it’s ‘a piece of land trapped in time. The world around it developed while it stayed still.’” “Works for both me and my knees,” Chip says. Length: A country mile or so if you take the Conner Trail out and back and the loop Difficulty: Easy-peasy unless you take the downhill loop, but Chip made it down and back up Don’t miss: Starbucks on the way in or out or both Good to know: There are several miles of trails and loops on the adjacent hike-and-bike trail Address: 407 W. Parris Ave., High Point
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Guilford County Farm For me, a hike is a trek of 8-10 miles with a vertical gain of 1,200 feet or more as measured by my Gaia GPS app. My wife, Anne, loves nature but, for her, hiking is what my father called dawdling. Birdwatching, she calls it. One of the few places that suits us both is the Guilford County (former) Prison Farm. When I drop her off about a third of a mile down Breakaway Trail, the sky is storybook blue. When I go back to park the car in the lot, a woodpecker, red-bellied or red-headed (where’s Anne?), glides high above me as a motley chorus of songbirds erupt in a mashup of jubilant timbres. Starlings (or are they blackbirds?) mob the vineyard across the road. Crows (or maybe they’re ravens) heckle me from their perches as I hike back down Howerton Road. On one side of the trail is a creek bottom aflutter with wings; on the other side, open agricultural fields. That’s the charm of this place: The largest of the county’s preserves, you can “run a fence line” through its bucolic rolling hills — just one of the reasons it’s on N.C.’s Mountain-to-Sea Trail. Panting, I pass a line of cedars that is surely bristling with cedar waxwings (I think) and catch up with Anne. “Seen any birds?” I ask. “The only bird I’ve seen is a red-tailed hawk, but I saw a dozen deer running along the creek bottom,” she says. I don’t say a word. Length: 2.2 miles out and back on the Breakaway Trail, which connects to a 1.8-mile loop Difficulty: Easy and flat. There’s a loop trail that’s more up and down Don’t miss: The 1935 stone-built prison dorm next to the parking lot Good to know: If you’d rather walk in the woods, find access to the loop trail at the lake on Amick Road (Howerton Road becomes Amick Road as you go into Alamance County just past the Prison Farm) Address: 7315 Howerton Road, Elon The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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Juneberry Ridge On down the road, seeds for a bright and beautiful future have been sown By Ross Howell Jr. • Photographs by Amy Freeman
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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y destination is a 600-acre retreat in the foothills of the Uwharrie Mountains — just outside Norwood, about 70 miles south of Greensboro. Most vehicles on the highway are log trucks. The rolling hills are thick with pine and hardwoods. Cattle loll by hayricks and calves frisk and butt in roadside pastures. I turn onto Old Cottonville Road. The name tells you something about the farm history here. Cotton’s still grown in the North Carolina Piedmont, along with crops for livestock. But essential topsoil is eroding away. Conservationists say this area has some of the poorest soil in North Carolina. On Old Cottonville Road, I spot a metal plate announcing, “Juneberry Ridge.” The drive rises steeply up an allée of young maples, with swales cut to catch runoff from the slope. I pass what’s known as a Five Stand. With heaters to warm shooters in winter and misters to cool them in summer, five shooting stations, an outdoor kitchen, a gathering space and loads of technology to support media presentations. Juneberry Ridge might be the finest competitive clay-shooting facility on the East Coast. The Five Stand was built by Judy Carpenter of Charlotte. Rising through the ranks of National Welders Supply Company, a regional business started by her father, she reaped full value for that enterprise through hard-nosed negotiations to a national distributor.
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She also happens to be a champion clay target shooter. When someone told her that, as a woman, she needed to find someplace else to compete, she bought this land and built herself one. Everybody at Juneberry Ridge calls her “Miss Judy.” She’s a genial, plain-spoken woman who could well be the most determined person on the planet. Farther up the ridge I see an expansive log house. First built as Miss Judy’s residence, it now houses a handful of the more than 30 individuals in her full-time employ. Beyond the house is a sizable solar array and a wind turbine. Rob Boisvert greets me outside. A retired news anchor for WSOC-TV and Spectrum News in Charlotte, Boisvert is the business development manager for Juneberry Ridge. I follow his car downhill past a conference center known, because of its proximity to a pond, as the “Toad House.” The building features more state-of-the-art technology and a commercial kitchen that can serve 70. Driving up another ridge, we pass tennis courts, and at the crest, a wellness center, cabins and a cottage. We pull up at Longleaf, where I’ll be staying. It’s an airy, light-filled, three-bedroom cottage with a vaulted-ceiling great room. Other cabins were built by Juneberry Ridge employees with lumber harvested on the property and milled nearby. The details are both simple and exquisite. In the refrigerator, for instance, I find a salad of lettuce grown in Juneberry Ridge’s The Art & Soul of Greensboro
45,000-square-foot greenhouse and fresh vinaigrette dressing made by head chef Tiffany Lackey, the hospitality director. I get it. I’m in a bucolic spot that’s an easy drive from Greensboro, Charlotte or Raleigh. It’s ideal for a weekend getaway outdoors. It’s perfect for a productive corporate retreat. But Miss Judy tells me what Juneberry Ridge is really about. “We’re kind of about saving the world,” she says. After lunch, two members of her young team meet me at the wellness center. Lead designer and Davidson biology grad Ross Lackey spreads a map across a table. After traveling the country, working on organic farms through the international movement called Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF), he returned to his hometown of High Point to work at Lindale Dairy. Later he ran a farm business in South Carolina. He consulted at Juneberry Ridge before joining as an employee. On the map, he points out a small building near Hardy Creek, which he says was the first greenhouse on the property. “The idea was that the greenhouse would supply food for Miss Judy and all the employees,” Lackey tells me. “That little greenhouse is where farming here was born,” adds farm manager and Appalachian State graduate Brian Hinson. Before joining Juneberry Ridge, he worked for the town of Norwood while tending to his family’s 500-acre farm. Farming at the Ridge got started with a small aquaponics system The Art & Soul of Greensboro
where the fish (tilapia) waste provided nutrients for the plants and, in turn, the plants filtered the water for the fish. We chat a bit more and climb into a pickup for my tour. As we enter woodlands, Lackey, a certified mushroom forager, says, “The morel mushrooms will be up soon. And we’ve found some lobster of the woods down there in the hollow.” As part of a plan to build miles of bike and hiking trails, Lackey will one day lead visitors on foraging hikes. Trained as a permaculture designer by the Greensboro Permaculture Guild, Lackey explains that an important tenet of permaculture is the notion of “right livelihood,” meaning that practitioners should not harm other living beings. It’s all about emphasizing biodiversity and natural systems, while creating jobs. “Miss Judy takes a very long view,” Lackey says. “She’s making it possible for us to build an infrastructure that will employ people now and in the future, paying a good wage with benefits.” Lackey explains that mature crops of chestnuts, walnuts and pecans may require 10–15 years of growth. Meanwhile, there are plans to plant a scuppernong vineyard. Quicker maturing crops like chinquapins, blueberries, mulberries, pawpaws and persimmons are being planted now. We stop at a dilapidated farmstead, where parts of the house date from the 1830s. Hinson points out a thick rock wall that’s waist-high and follows the contour of the hillside. O.Henry 57
“That stone wall’s a good 150 . . . 200 yards long,” Hinson says. “All hauled by mule.” As they point out various sights on the property, including the earthen berms on the drive up to the big greenhouse, their reverence is palpable. “It’s like a game, seeing how long you can get water to stay in the environment,” Lackey comments. “Any farming system that’s lasted longer than 200 years has intricate water management systems.” At the massive greenhouse, we’re met by more members of the Juneberry Ridge team. Here’s where the farm’s transformation comes clearly into focus. The engine of change? Chickens. “When anybody is talking about an animal that’s good for fertility,” says Justine Carpenter, who runs the farm’s logistics and livestock, “it’s a polite way of saying that the animal produces a lot of poop.” Nearby, 30 hens wander contentedly in a grassy area defined by an electrified mesh fence. Carpenter tells me they’re heritage birds — Rhode Island Reds and Barred Rocks — long-prized for their egg-laying. “They’ll give us about 10 dozen eggs a week, not a lot, something we can serve in the kitchen,” says Carpenter. They’re entertaining. Funky and feathered and scratching about in the grass. About once a week,
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Ross Lackey
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Greenhouse the fence and hens will be moved to a different area of the farm. From behind the greenhouse, a sloped field is visible. A year ago, it yielded soybeans and corn. Now it’s planted with grass and rows of trees and bushes that follow the contour of the hill. Almonds, grapes and blackberries will be added to the rows, and in a year or two, Hinson tells me, livestock will graze in the alleys. “We’ll use portable fence,” he continues, “so we can keep rotating the animals, spreading manure to have positive impact across the whole farm.” A flock of white chickens (Cornish Roasters) pick and kick at the earth nearby. Like the laying hens, the Cornish Roasters are inside a portable enclosure. This is the team’s inaugural set of meat birds. The target is to raise 1,000 Cornish Roasters for processing. They’ll yield upwards of 3,500 pounds of chicken to serve from the Juneberry Ridge kitchens. “These birds eat locally grown and milled grain produced on a fifth-generation farm,” Carpenter adds. “They’ll be processed at a facility that’s only 15 miles away, so we’re really keeping these birds local.” I walk inside the expansive greenhouse with Hinson, along with head grower Gabe Calkin and quality and production manager Stephen Hileman. Big changes are underway. The original Hardy Creek greenhouse grew herbs, flowers, lettuce and peppers, serving upwards of a dozen local restaurants. The decision was made to scale up and build a commercial aquaponics facility. “I was hired on as greenhouse tech and salesperson,” Hinson says. He soon realized it was going to take way too many restaurants and a far too cumbersome delivery system to sell what a 45,000-square-foot greenhouse was capable of producing. “So we got into the wholesale market selling lettuce, basil and chives to Harris Teeter supermarkets,” Hinson continues. “They The Art & Soul of Greensboro
were a great customer.” But the profit margins were tight. Hileman explains that seeding lettuce plants could be difficult. Then there was a philosophical problem. The seed was planted in pads of rock wool — volcanic rock that’s heated and spun like cotton candy. “The pads worked really well,” Hileman says. “But rock wool isn’t biodegradable and it isn’t cheap.” Calkin points out another significant problem. “While the greenhouse provides an ideal environment for plants,” he says, “it also provides an ideal environment for pests.” With largescale monoculture crops, the pests could spread even more rapidly. “It was a disaster,” Calkin says. “Last week was our final delivery to Harris Teeter,” Hinson adds. “So we’re moving into our next phase with more biodiversity.” The space where thousands of heads of lettuce and basil had been grown hydroponically is being converted into a nursery for trees, shrubs and a variety of other plants that will be planted on the farm or sold to consumers. The aquaponics system is still used to grow tilapia and a variety of lettuce and herbs. When I’m finished at the greenhouse, Boisvert takes me by the Five Stand for some fun. Taylor Estep, a Charlotte native who’s a shooting instructor, carpenter and metal fabricator at the farm, gives me a quick rundown on gun safety, then hands out protective glasses and ear plugs so the three of us can shoot clays. My youthful days hunting upland birds come back sufficiently for me to avoid humiliation. Then I’m off to visit Suzanne Durkee. After graduating from the University of New Hampshire and receiving an M.B.A. from Simmons University in Boston, she focused on strategic planning and built a successful consulting business, which she sold. Then she O.Henry 61
Tiffany Lackey spent 10 years as an executive at General Dynamics in Charlotte before retiring. “After that I kicked around painting, traveling,” she continues. “I was having a great time.” But fate intervened, in the form of Miss Judy. The two women worked out at the same gym. They started talking. “I loved what Miss Judy was doing, but I didn’t want to go back to work,” Durkee says. “So I told her I’d write her up a business plan.” That was four years ago. Now Durkee is the CEO at Juneberry Ridge. “We’d given ourselves 10 years to transition to regenerative agriculture,” she says. “We’d created a strategic road map with guideposts and benchmarks showing progress and profitability.” Then the coronavirus hit, slowing the farm’s transition. “We’ve had time to plan,” Durkee continues, “but not that much time to implement.” She says even the huge corporate farms in the Midwest are realizing that continued tilling and massive use of fertilizers, herbicides and pesticides are methods that are not sustainable. “When we say we’re changing the way the world grows, it’s not just how we grow our food,” Durkee continues. “It’s how we grow as human beings, how we improve our own physical and mental health,
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how we grow our communities and how we grow as a nation.” Highfalutin? Maybe. But she’s made me a true believer. Count on Miss Judy to bring us down to Earth. “You know, we didn’t start out to be a regenerative farm,” she says. “We morphed here. But our young farmers can make something out of nothing.” Tour complete, my packed suitcase is in the car, but I’m reluctant to leave. I walk over to the vista behind Longleaf cottage, where chestnut, persimmon and Juneberry trees have been planted. Scattered among the young trees are clumps of muhly grass, blueberry bushes and prickly pear cactus along with big stones grubbed up from the land. I look in the distance at the native forest emerging beyond the recent plantings and imagine coming back to this spot someday to see the chestnut trees loaded with nut burrs and the Juneberry trees shading the bushes below. Given my advanced years, I may not be around for that. But from what I’ve seen and heard, I’m certain Juneberry Ridge will. OH Ross Howell Jr. is a freelance writer in Greensboro. Contact him at ross.howell1@gmail.com. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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A L M A N A C
May n
By Ashley Wahl
Strawberry Fields
M
ay is a blushing bride, lips sweet as plump strawberries, humming an ancient rhyme for luck. Something old (snakeskin), something new (four eggs), something borrowed (birdhouse), something blue (songbird). The second stanza starts with honeyed warbles. Tu-a-wee sings the bluebird on the pitched roof of the birdhouse. Tu-a-wee trills the bluebird at the nest. Verse three is the sound of movement through soft grass. In the black of night — a shadowy flash — four eggs swallowed one by one. Lucky rat snake, with its new skin, its luscious fluidity, its bellyful of tender life. Lucky rabbit, nibbling in the garden at dawn, bellyful of baby lettuce, salad greens, Swiss chard, snow peas. May is a banquet, a ceremony, a celebration. It is the vow from bee to flower, flower to bee. The sacred oath to give until there is nothing left. And there is so much here. An apple blossom for the maiden. Wild berries for the groom. An ancient rhyme. Sweet nectar and the tender, green promise of a full and luscious life — pleasant and bitter, in darkness and in light.
It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what. ― John Galsworthy, The Forsyte Saga
Soul of Greensboro
Behold the earliest strawberries, fat and sweet. Like love notes from summer, ripe for the picking. And if ever you picked them straight from the bush, perhaps you’ve noticed that they smell as scrumptious as they taste. Members of the rose family, strawberry plants are perennial. Fruit can be picked green (pickle them) or ripe (you’ll know what to do), but don’t fret if they’ve gone a bit soft. Instead, make wine — or jam. You won’t need much: Two pounds of fresh strawberries (mash them), four cups of white sugar and one-fourth cup of fresh lemon juice. One heavy bottomed saucepan, too. Stir mixture over low heat until sugar dissolves, then bring to a full rolling boil, stirring often, for about 15 minutes. Sure, you can transfer to hot sterile jars, seal and process — or save yourself the trouble. Let cool and eat right away.
The May Wreath
May takes its name from the Roman goddess Maia, midwife of plants, flowers and the riotous beauty of spring. Speaking of flowers, it’s time to gather them. On the first of the month, May Day, celebrate this fertile, fruitful season by fashioning a wreath of twigs and greenery. Weave in wildflowers: crab apple, dogwood, painted trillium. Add pomegranate, garlic, herbs and nettle. Hang it on your door until midsummer night. Wreath-making is an ancient Greek custom believed to ward off evil and invite prosperity. The act itself is a sacred dance between the weaver and the natural world.
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Outsiders’ Delight
With the arrival of summer days and temperate nights, life outdoors doesn’t get any sweeter. Why not take advantage of it by carving out spaces beyond your home’s walls and foundation or exploring the wider world around you? So go ahead: dig, plant, expand your boundaries at home and abroad, and celebrate and savor it all. For there’s no better place to appreciate your life than under the canopy of a sheltering sky.
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May 2021
Jedi in Training
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Although conscientious effort is made to provide accurate and up-to-date information, all events are subject to change and errors can occur! Please call to verify times, costs, status and location before planning or attending an event.
May 1
JEDI IN TRAINING. 8 a.m. “May the 4th be with you,” by celebrating Star Wars day on May 1 from dawn to Darth with a Star Wars-themed charity 5K race. Fun run and virtual options also available. Registration: $15+. Lawndale Baptist Church, 3505 Lawndale Dr., Greensboro. Info: maythecourserace.com.
May 1 & 2
KEEP IT CLEAN. 8 a.m. Help keep Greensboro beautiful with the Great American Cleanup’s spring litter pickup. Free; registration required. Info: greensboro-nc.gov.
May 1–12
OUT OF THIS WORLD. Treat kids 5-12 to an out-ofthis-world, space-themed “Kids Night In” with a kit that includes marshmallow star constellations, rocket ships built from straws, homemade galaxy slime and moon phase cookies. Cost: $5. Registration required for pick-up. Info: greensboro-nc.gov.
May 2
OPUS FINALE. 6–7:30 p.m. The final spring Opus Concert features small ensembles of the Greensboro Concert Band. Free and livestreamed. Info: www. facebook.com/CreativeGreensboro or through the “CityofGreensboroNC” on YouTube.
May 4
PLAY BALL! 6:30 p.m. America’s favorite pastime returns. The Greensboro Grasshoppers play Hickory in their first
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
You’re a Natural
5/
1—12
MLB home game of the season. Full schedule and ticket info: milb.com/greensboro.
May 5
ADAPTIVE GOLF. 4:30–6 p.m. First Tee Challenger Golf participants learn adaptive techniques and modifications from golf instructors. Registration required. Fee: $10. Sign up: firstteecentralcarolina.org.
May 7
HIT IT! 6:30–9:30 p.m. Join Healing Earth Rhythms downtown for a community drum circle every first Friday of the month. Free. Info: greensborodowntownparks.org/ calendar.
May 8 & 9
CEMETERY STROLL. “The Plants & The Planted.” One-hour tour held Saturday (11 a.m. until noon); full two-hour tour on Sunday (2–4 p.m.). Drop-ins welcome. Admission: $5 (cash only). Green Hill Cemetery, 901 Wharton St., Greensboro. Info: friendsofgreenhillcemetery.org/tours.
May 14
19
May 15–31
THIS OLD HOUSE. Explore historic homes virtually during Preservation Greensboro’s 11th Annual Tour of Historic Homes & Gardens: College Hill. Info: (336) 2725003 or preservationgreensboro.org.
May 19
YOU’RE A NATURAL. 7:30–8:30 p.m. “Nature Photography for Beginners,” a free virtual workshop offers advice on equipment, movement and atmosphere. Registration required. Info: greensboro-nc.gov.
May 22
I LIKE TO MOVE IT. Dance Project presents Move Together Mini Marathon, an evening of interactive dance classes, performances and stories to raise awareness of the importance of dance in Greensboro and across the state. 200 N. Davie St., Suite 321, Greensboro. Info: (336) 3706776 or info@danceproject.org. OPEN HOUSE. 1–3 p.m. This recently restored Italian Renaissance Revival Mansion celebrates its 100th Anniversary. Free. T. Austin Finch House, 17 E. Main St., Thomasville. Info: (336) 252-1573 or the-finch-house.com.
WINE & LAUGH. 7–8:30 p.m. National touring comedians visit the vineyard. Grove Winery, 7360 Brooks Bridge Road, Gibsonville. Info: (336) 584-4060 or grovewinery. com.
ADAPTIVE GOLF CLINIC. 10–11:30 a.m. Adaptive golf techniques for individuals with physical disabilities. Beginners welcome. Ages 7 and up. Free, but registration required. Gillespie Golf Course, 306 E. Florida St., Greensboro. Info: (336) 373-2626.
May 15
May 29
HIS MAJESTY. 6 p.m. Christian Contemporary Music duo For King & Country perform high-energy anthems. Tickets: $30 and up. Greensboro Coliseum Complex, 1921 W. Gate City Blvd., Greensboro. Info: greensborocoliseum.com or (336) 373-7400.
SPLISH-SPLASH! Greensboro’s popular local water park reopens to the public. Wet n’ Wild Emerald Pointe, 3910 S. Holden Road, Greensboro. Tickets/Info: (336) 852-9721 or emeraldpointe.com.
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State State StreetStreet
1010:00-5:30 Monday-Friday 10:00-3:00 Saturday and by Appt.
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1614-C WEST FRIENDLY AVENUE GREENSBORO, NC 27403 336-272-2032 stitchpoint@att.net MONDAY-FRIDAY: 10:00-6:00 SATURDAY: 10:00-4:00
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Working Together to Help You Move Forward
IT’S NOT JUST YOU THAT NEEDS A CHECK-UP TO STAY HEALTHY! Business & Services
Give your HVAC unit a spring cleaning, your allergies will thank you.
The Health Insurance Shoppe and Triad HealthCare Network are partnered to provide you with the help and guidance needed to understand and enroll in individual health, Medicare, prescription drug, and special needs insurance plans.
The Premier Refrigeration and HVAC Service Company Serving the Triad and surrounding communities since 1976
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641 MCWAY DR., SUITE 101• HIGH POINT, NC 27263
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Business & Services
Your Greensboro Connection
Sandra Yochim 336.912.0650
Danny Anderson 336.247.2735
Scott Aldridge 252.531.7456
Kelli Young 336.337.4850
Bobbie Maynard, Broker, Realtor, CRS, GRI, CSP, Green Phone: 336.215.8017 | www.Bobbiemaynard.com
Bobbie Maynard
ASHMORE
RARE COINS & METALS Since 1987
• 30+ years as a major dealer of Gold, Silver, and Coins • Most respected local dealer for appraising and buying Coin Collections, Gold, Silver, Diamond Jewelry and Sterling Flatware • Investment Gold, Silver, & Platinum Bullion
Visit us: www.ashmore.com or call 336-617-7537 5725 W. Friendly Ave. Ste 112 • Greensboro, NC 27410 Across the street from the entrance to Guilford College
You won’t find them in ordinary kitchens. Or at ordinary stores. Sub-Zero, the preservation specialist. Wolf, the cooking specialist. You’ll find them only at your local kitchen specialist.
Practicing Commercial Real Estate by the Golden Rule Bill Strickland, CCIM
SHOP LOCAL FOR BEST PRICES
Commercial Real Estate Broker/REALTOR
We Service What We Sell & Offer Personal Attention
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www.bipinc.com 82 O.Henry
336-854-9222 • www.HartApplianceCenter.com
2201 Patterson Street, Greensboro, NC (2 Blocks from the Coliseum) Mon. - Fri.: 9:30am - 5:30 pm Sat. 10 am - 2 pm • Closed Sunday
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
shops • service • food • farms
Our customers are young and the young at heart. They are the classic American beauty or those looking for Threads that are uniquely on trend.
support locally owned businesses
“I couldn’t be happier with my renters, or my rental income” Brantley White Burkely Rental Homes client
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Join the effort. Visit www.triadlocalfirst.com.
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Arts erutlu&CCulture & strA As seen in: Biltmore House, Asheville Greensboro News & Record
Resinate Art The Original Representational Epoxy Artist ARTIST Carol Kaminski • HOURS by appointment only RESIN classes available 4912 Hackamore Rd, Greensboro, 27410 704-608-9664 • www.ResinateArt.com
84 O.Henry
The Art & Soul of Greensboro
Join the effort. Visit www.triadlocalfirst.com.
L AW N DA L E SH O P P ING C ENTE R • IRVING PAR K
DOVER SQUARE • WESTOVER GALLERY OF SHOPS
SweetTreats
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Now accepting orders online at randymcmanusdesigns.com A small batch bakery with fresh batches every day. From cake pops, brownies, cupcakes, and much more, we’re happy to satisfy your sweet tooth. 1616 Battleground Ave, Greensboro, NC (336)306-2827 Order by email! easypeasydnd@gmail.com
336.691.0051
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www.randymcmanusdesigns.com @randymcmanusdesigns @randymcmanusevents 1616 Battleground Avenue, Suite D-1 • Greensboro, NC 27408
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L AW N DA L E SH OP P ING CENTE R • IRVING PARK
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Visit LADIES CLOTHING, GIFTS, BABY, JEWELRY, GIFTS FOR THE HOME, TABLEWARE, DELICIOUS FOOD
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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DOVER SQUARE • WESTOVER GALLERY OF SHOPS
Treat Your Mother to a Day at
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The Art & Soul of Greensboro
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O.Henry Ending
A World Without Hugs
By David Claude Bailey
I know. I know. Ev-
erybody misses hugs, getting them and giving them.
But I don’t. Not one bit. For me, one of the few silver linings of the Great Pandemic is not getting all hot and bothered about spreading a cloud of cooties, dandruff, body odors and cat hairs with someone I really don’t care to know intimately. Those who are still reading are surely wondering what trauma from my youth turned me into an utterly unhuggable misanthrope. My mother hugged me lovingly, and I reciprocated. But I would also let her grab my ear and give it a good scrub with a washrag. My daddy’s family weren’t much into hugging, but dad hugged me as a kid. That said, I could tell he was relieved when I began shaking hands with him, when, for instance, I’d go off to Scout camp for a week. So maybe that’s where it came from. It might very well have been my mother’s bottle-blonde bridge partner, who would press my face into her ample bosom, where I was convinced I would surely smother to death on the combination of baby powder and Chanel No. 5, 6, 7 and 8. Another bridge player would scoop me up for a big, slobbery, red-smear of a lipstick kiss, giving me the full effect of her last cigarette and the chemical aura surrounding her freshly permed hair. No wonder I ran from her. I married a hugger from a hugging family and when I’m having a terrible day, few things are more restorative than a hug from Anne. My children are huggers and as they cast off into the great unknown for months at a time, a warm and heartfelt hug says
88 O.Henry
much more than a teary goodbye. To me, hugs should be something of a sacred connection between two people. My body is yours, I say to my daughters and my wife. I would give my life to save yours, and here’s our bond. I assure you I never felt that way toward my great and ample aunt Gus or my willowy uncle Reid. Men hugs are tricky. Some friends give a manly, chest-to-chest, arm-over-the-shoulder squeeze. With others, it’s just a quick shoulder-to-shoulder bump. I have a friend, though, who savors hugs. And he is eminently huggable, Teddy-bear-like in bearing and girth and completely unselfconscious. Many a woman delights in hugging the daylights out of him. And there I am, giving a triangular, shoulder-contact-only, ersatz hug and wondering what’s wrong with me. Funerals and weddings are the worst. But who needs a hug more than someone whose daddy just croaked? Or whose daughter just got married? Nieces of a certain age are also awkward. What to do about the niece who hugged you like a bear just a year ago but has since matured? And nephews? Even the subteens get handshakes from me — and seem actually grateful. Believe me, people can sense us unhuggables; it’s amazing how they develop memories for the types of hugs that are wanted or unwanted. I envy people who never give this sort of thing a second thought. And I sure wish I didn’t. But I do. And I know others who feel the same way. Once this COVID thing is over and done with, do we really want to go back to sharing our germs, dandruff and garlic breath? Can’t we just get along with elbow bumps? OH Hug David Claude Bailey, O.Henry’s intimacy-skills columnist, remotely at davidclaudebailey@gmail.com. The Art & Soul of Greensboro
ILLUSTRATION BY HARRY BLAIR
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